


remind me why i'm still here

by halfpastone



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, M/M, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Time Skips, but not really???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastone/pseuds/halfpastone
Summary: Coincidences happen. They happen to everyone. But when Kageyama starts seeing Oikawa in the most unexpected places, he begins to wonder if the world is playing a cruel prank on him.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 111
Kudos: 236





	1. all the things i can('t) remember

**Author's Note:**

> can't believe i start off with a kageyama x oikawa fanfic. but you know what? i love their dynamic to death and i'll be taking it to the afterlife with me ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ -
> 
> updates will vary from ungodly fast to ungodly slow so just sit back and wait a few centuries with me v(≧∇≦v)三(v≧∇≦)v

**i’ve become a master**

**at breaking my own**

**heart**

If you asked Oikawa what his favorite drink was, he would tell you something different every day. Milk bread was always going to remain his preferred food, but beverages were a whole different matter. On Mondays, he liked bubble tea. On Tuesdays, he liked smoothies. On days his team won, he liked water. On days his team lost, he liked hot chocolate.

Today was a hot chocolate day.

The back of his throat was dry from the exertion of playing volleyball. His knees ached, especially the one covered with the white brace. His chest stung with each breath, even though his match had ended almost an hour ago. And yet, with the energy drained from his body, Oikawa still wanted to run, as fast as he could, as far as he could, just to get away from this place.

Usually, the exhaustion felt good; sweat dripping down his temple from the heat of a game, or even an afterschool practice session. It told him that he worked hard. It was a reminder that every time he trained, he was getting better. But today, all it was, was not enough. Not enough to beat a team that was labeled as incompetent, nor to keep the little prodigy at bay.

Kageyama. On good days, when Oikawa heard the name, he would snort or crack a joke. Right now, all he wanted was to punch something.

But he was too exhausted to do even that. Through blurry eyes, Oikawa glanced around for a spot on the locker room bench that wasn’t piled with clothing. He tried for a moment, before just pushing aside stray shorts and taking a seat. He had put on a good show for Ushijima back there. Most of the time, slapping a smile on his face was as simple as stringing together a sentence, but back there, it hurt his face.

They lost. After so much practice, so many nights where he didn’t sleep to watch replays of games, so much determination and hope – they still lost. _He_ still lost. To Kageyama of all people.

It was no surprise, really. Oikawa knew that eventually, the setter would surpass him. It was just a matter of when and how. No matter how much he wanted it, there was no doubt in his mind that Kageyama would catch up and leave him in the dust. Because Kageyama was a _genius_ , and Oikawa was _ordinary_. Sure, he could try his hand at being the best by working twice as hard, but in the end, hard work would always lose to talent.

Talent. Genius.

The words made Oikawa want to shout in frustration. His heart was already beginning to pound from the weight of his thoughts and his skin was breaking out in a sweat. _Calm down_ , he coached himself, blinking rapidly. _Take a few deep breaths_.

It was only after a few minutes before he could stand the thought of walking out and interacting with people without cracking his facade. And thank god he took a few minutes to pull himself together, because the moment he stepped out of the changing room, he was bombarded by Iwaizumi.

“What are you doing?” Iwaizumi asked, the crease between his eyebrows harsh. “You know how much your fanclub was pestering me about where you were? Get your ass out there and deal with them.”

Oikawa felt his usual, wide, cheeky grin pull at his cheeks. The pressure behind his eyes was still there, but he could ignore it for now. Until he got home. Once he got home, he could scream and cry into his pillow all he wanted. “I can always count on them to comfort me,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Iwa-chan, carry me there, I’m feeling faint.”

“Shut the hell up,” Iwaizumi grumbled, shoving Oikawa’s shoulder in the general direction of the end of the hallway. “I still need to change, dumbass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oikawa replied, pursing his lips and blowing his childhood friend a kiss before running to dodge the punch coming his way. “Hurry up, I wanna go get some hot chocolate later!”

He slowed to a stop when he slammed the door close behind him. The distant sound of Iwaizumi shouting could still be heard through the double doors, but Oikawa hummed to himself and ignored the angry comments.

Perhaps this loss was not as bad as he thought. His mood was rising already after his short conversation with Iwaizumi. And outside, a band of girls with their sweet smiles and homemade chocolates awaited him. It was no hot chocolate, but any comfort food would do.

And then –

 _Fuck the world_.

Of _course_ he just had to be there. The universe was cruel in that way.

Kageyama was standing in his path, leaning against the wall and staring right at Oikawa. His intense blue eyes that seemed to be keeping track of anything and everything burned holes in his body. And just like that, his mood plummeted. The once curious face replaced with something that Oikawa could not quite identify from so far away. What was it? Resentment? As he drew closer, the look faded, and Kageyama blinked.

“Oikawa-san,” Kageyama began, pushing off the wall _. Oh no, you don’t_. “I – “

What was he going to do? Talk? And expect Oikawa to smile as if everything was okay? Talking to Kageyama of all people was the last thing he wanted to right now (and for the rest of eternity and beyond). All he wished for was to not see those pensive eyes ever again in his life. His throat went tight with frustration, but years of pretending honed his act and the pleasant smile stuck on his face.

“Sorry, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa apologized, shooting him his signature wink and a mischievous peace sign. “No time to talk! I wouldn’t want to keep my dear fanclub waiting!”

Kageyama opened his mouth, but Oikawa breezed past him. As he strolled to the next doorway, he wondered if Kageyama was still staring after him. His back prickled, but he told himself it was his imagination. He wanted to mess with Kageyama again. To mess with his head. If he couldn’t torture the boy physically, he wanted it to be mental torture. Anything to get rid of the shadow that was overwhelming him. But he was so tired.

His adorable (irritating; god-blessed) junior had finally caught up. There wasn’t a reason more for him to stick around anymore.

**with simple thoughts,**

**dreams, and hopes**

Milk was his favorite drink of all time. There was no competition. It was the only beverage he could drink every day for the rest of his life and never get tired of if his habits during lunch were anything to show. The button under his finger was familiar, and the motion almost automatic. Bits of the patterned ink was scraped off, but he didn’t need an image to tell him which drink to buy when his stomach lead the way.

Kageyama listened to the sound of the gears inside the vending machine creaking. When the milk carton landed in the opening slot, he bent down to pick it up. Every day, he drank one of the cheap cartons of milk the school cafeteria offered. It didn’t matter which day it was – it could be his death day for all he cared. Milk was his favorite and would always be.

He was about to take a sip, but he was interrupted by a loud, obnoxious voice. Annoyance was already stirring in his chest.

“Hey, Kageyama!” It was Hinata. And he was running towards him.

In the same way he moved through his daily routine, his eyebrows crinkled together at the sight of his teammate. “What do you want?”

“You sure are feeling rude today,” Hinata grumbled, skidding to a stop in front of Kageyama and sighing. “Volleyball practice is canceled today. Says Sugawara-san. The third years are having some sorta meeting that they can’t miss out on, and everybody else has a thing planned.”

Kageyama frowned. This was the second time this month that practice was canceled. His streak of never missing volleyball was coming to an abrupt halt and he couldn’t even do anything about it. “Even you?”

Hinata jumped, his face locking in a morbidly offended expression.

“Yeah! I gotta look after my little sister today! Anyway,” he said, skipping away to bother his next victim. “Gotta go! Tutoring!”

And then he was alone again. Kageyama debated on the thought of going to Daiichi and asking for the keys to the gym, but adult supervision was required for afterschool training sessions without the captain, and he doubted coach would allow him in by himself. The sigh of frustration was building in his throat. Kageyama jammed the straw into his milk carton and took a hard sip, swallowing both his irritation and milk at the same time.

Maybe he could play by himself after dinner. He could, _if_ his Hinata hadn’t lost his ball last week. Kageyama took a deep breath to avoid unleashing his anger on the freshman nervously inching toward the vending machine beside him.

Kageyama was not going through the day without playing volleyball _. I’ll think of something_ , he told himself as he walked (stomped) his way to math class.

**that are impossible to**

**achieve**

Math class, was perhaps, his least favorite. If he wasn’t counting English. English was pure torture. There was no other way of describing it.

Kageyama stared down at his paper. It was filled with equations, things he didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand. He wanted to play volleyball, not waste his time on numbers he would never use again. He would do anything other than this.

But Kageyama forced his eyes to locate the first question and read.

It wasn’t until his head hit the desk that he realized there was no way he could concentrate. Kageyama closed his eyes and willed for motivation to come to him, but of course, it was impossible. So instead, he turned his attention to the rest of the class.

He shouldn’t have.

There was a boy who sat in the seat near the window, and he had dark brown hair. (Dark brown hair that was styled in the same was as _his_.) Kageyama’s eyes were drawn towards him, in the same way one might turn around to take a second glance at a particularly pretty girl walking down the street. They didn’t share the same face or even the same body stature. But that hair. Even since middle school, he had wondered how Oikawa managed to maintain it.

Fuck.

It wasn’t just the endless numbers and dull atmosphere that made Kageyama hate math, it was the people he had to spend the period with. More specifically, person, singular. It was ridiculous. Months had passed since the last time Karasuno competed against Aobajohsai, but he couldn’t get the name out of his mind. He didn’t realize it at first, not until Hinata pointed out that he sounded like he had an obsession.

He did not. Oikawa’s high school graduation was this year, and he would be going to university in autumn. After that, they would never see each other again and –

The boy turned his head and his eyes met with Kageyama’s. Even though those eyes weren’t brown like Oikawa’s (they were green, _green, not brown_ ) the nervous smile still sent a muted shiver down his spine.

Kageyama flipped his head to the other side and closed his eyes without returning the smile.

He stayed like that for the rest of the class, tempted to stare or fall asleep. He probably would have, if not for the fact that in a few weeks, he would be scrambling to cram in information for exams and he couldn’t risk failing this year. Kageyama could feel the disapproving stare of his teacher, but he had pulled stunts like this several times over the years, and him halfway on the path to dreamland wasn’t an uncommon sight.

When the bell rang, just like always, he was the first to speed out of the classroom. By this time on a normal day, he would be sprinting to the gym for volleyball practice. Instead, he was heading home. Strange, prickling anxiety picked at him under his skin. Like the feeling of forgetting something, but not knowing what that something was. Separation anxiety? No.

**things that i will never**

**accomplish, places**

**i will never go, and**

The school was the same as it had always been. Plain walls surrounded by an ordinary fence. It sat so innocently in the middle of the field, and yet, Kageyama wanted to turn away from the unpleasant memories welling up in his stomach. Kitagawa Daiichi. His middle school, the school where he earned his less than appreciated nickname, the one where he honed his skills, the one where he met his inspiration and rival. If you could still call Oikawa that. The memory of everybody turning their backs on him was still burned clear in his mind; it would be forever, no matter how much he willed for it to disappear.

He couldn’t remember the last time he came here voluntarily after graduation. The team had once dragged him to the school to meet its seniors and prepare for the ones who would be interested in joining the team in Karasuno, but that was against his will. Kageyama could still remember how sore his face was that day, trying not to scowl or glare at the younger students.

The grass beneath his feet raced to an abrupt stop a few meters ahead of him. If he took a few more steps, he would officially be inside the school bounds. The sun was fading behind him and if he wanted to take a look around, he better do it quickly. In the distance, he could hear the laughter of kids, but he prayed that he wouldn’t be caught sneaking around. Not that he was.

The idea of visiting the school again made his stomach do uncomfortable flips. He didn’t even have a partner to practice with him or a ball at the very least. He should just go home and forget about playing for today. This was ridiculous anyway –

“Oh my God!”

Kageyama was sure he jumped higher than Hinata during his spikes when the disembodied voice floated to his ears. His instincts urged him to spin around, but his head could barely move to comply. When his body did finally obey, Kageyama saw him. There, in the distance, was a boy with a wide grin (smug, he could imagine, even from so far) and brown tufts of hair that stuck out in purposeful places. His figure was outlined by the sun behind him, and the light against his body made him look almost angelic. (Not quite.)

“Tobio-chan!” Oikawa shouted. Even after these years, Kageyama still frowned at the cutesy nickname. Why Oikawa of all people called him by his first name when nobody else did, was beyond him.

When his senior pulled himself into a casual stroll towards him, Kageyama was torn between the thought of running away as fast as he could and rushing forward and punching Oikawa’s head off his neck.

Kageyama didn’t end up doing either; he didn’t do anything, just stood there as Oikawa approached.

“Never thought I’d see you here,” Oikawa said when they were within arm's length of each other. He still hosted that shit-eating grin on his pretty face and Kageyama couldn’t be more disgusted. “It’s like fate brought us here, Tobio-chan!”

When Kageyama just stared, Oikawa’s grin twisted into something that mirrored annoyance. “Oh, don’t be like that,” he scoffed, strolling past Kageyama and towards the cement. So smoothly, so confidently. “Aren’t you going to say hello to your most awesome senpai ever?”

“Why are you here?” Kageyama asked bluntly. He wanted to walk away, and yet – his feet refused to move.

“Same reason as you,” Oikawa hummed. _That makes no sense_.

Oikawa suddenly gasped and whirled around, grabbing Kageyama by the shoulders, just about vibrating with anticipation. Kageyama tried to squirm away, but he wouldn’t budge. “I just thought of the coolest thing! Let’s go explore and see the storage room they keep outside! I tried to get Iwa-chan to come with me last summer, but he was being boring.”

Iwaizumi. Kageyama remembered him. Stubborn but well-mannered, nothing like his self-proclaimed best friend. He didn’t understand how somebody could stand Oikawa enough to remain by his side since childhood. “What are you…”

“I’m _saying_ ,” Oikawa’s eyes were practically shining with excitement. “That we should go on an adventure!”

His grin widened and he leaned closer. “You don’t wanna be boring, do you?”

The familiar feeling of wanting to please was rising in his stomach to his throat, seconds away from agreeing. Back in middle school, Kageyama was willing to do almost anything just for genuine praise from Oikawa, anything for a smudge of advice or a sign that he was doing something right. But no, they weren’t in middle school anymore. Kageyama was his own person, and he was not going to do anything that Oikawa said, not if he could help it.

“I – “

“Great!” Oikawa cheered, ripping his hands off of Kageyama and pumping his fists into the air like a little child. “C’mon, let’s go explore, nobody’s here!”

Without turning around to even check if Kageyama was following, Oikawa sauntered to the fence surrounding the school, grin wide and mumbling to himself. The utter confidence that he oozed was astonishing. It was _disgusting_. Kageyama could walk away right now, and Oikawa wouldn’t be able to stop him; he wouldn’t know.

But he found himself following after his senior. So much time has passed, and Kageyama was still chasing after him, doing anything to keep up.

“Tobio-chan!” Oikawa called, pointing at a spot in the fence and looking delighted that Kageyama was with him. “Over here, we can climb this!”

Kageyama rushed over and watched him scale the fence with lightning speed as if he had done this a hundred times before. Before he knew it, Oikawa was on the other side, laughing at something Kageyama didn’t understand and encouraging him to go next.

What confused Kageyama the most was the way that Oikawa was acting. He was acting as if they were friends. They were rivals, on opposite sides of the net, and they would always stay that way. But here, Oikawa was smiling as bright as the setting afternoon sun and invading Kageyama’s precious personal space. For the millionth time since their first meeting years ago, Kageyama wondered what he was thinking.

When he climbed the fence, the metal rods dug into the pads of his fingers, embedding marks on his skin and leaving a scent that would take a strong soap to get rid of. Paired with Oikawa’s cheerful expression and the building they went to in the background, Kageyama could almost imagine that they were back in middle school.

Except middle school Oikawa hated him. The loathing had been as clear as day behind his taunting smiles. At the very top of the fence, Kageyama looked down and studied those brown eyes. They were warm. Was it because of the growing dusk or are they genuine? His heart raced when he realized he didn’t know.

Before, he could tell the emotion behind Oikawa’s smiles, he could determine if it was fake with a single glance. But now, both atop this metal fence and on the ground, Kageyama had no clue.

_He’s gotten better at acting._

“Cat got your tongue?” Oikawa shouted. “Or are you afraid of heights? If you told me earlier, I could have carried you over!” He burst into a fit of giggles.

One thing that hadn’t changed with Oikawa: he was still strange, and Kageyama would never understand him.

**people i will never be**

**able to love**

“Jeez, I can’t believe they still haven’t replaced these ugly yoga mats,” Oikawa grumbled, eyeing the blue pads of foam like it personally offended him. Knowing Oikawa, it probably _did_ personally offend him.

Like Oikawa, Kageyama’s gaze was wandering around the outdoor storage room, searching for what exactly, he didn’t know. Near the door, there was a light switch, but after watching Oikawa try it about a dozen times, they gave up and let themselves be surrounded by darkness, with only the soft rays of the falling sun to guide their way.

Through the dim setting, Kageyama could see most of the outlines of the scattered pieces of equipment. Everything was the same. A few items were shifted less than a few inches from where he remembered they rested, but other than that, the storage room was exactly as they had left it.

The familiar appearance of it made his skin crawl. He remembered the times that he, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi had invaded this place for a few volleyballs to practice with. Just as he thought this, his eyes landed on the pile of yellow in the corner. On instinct, Kageyama walked forward and grabbed one from the set.

Behind him, Oikawa snorted. “What are you, obsessed?” Kageyama could practically feel him roll his eyes. “Oh, wait, who am I kidding? You are obsessed. I swear, you can’t go one day without playing. Exactly like a drug addict.”

“It’s a lot healthier,” Kageyama said, tossing the ball into the air and setting it to the wall.

“That’s the longest sentence you’ve said so far,” Oikawa chirped. “I was beginning to think you hated me!"

He did. Did he? The sight of Oikawa and the sound of his voice made him nauseous, but he was here, wasn’t he? There were plenty of chances to turn away and go home, but he stayed and listened to Oikawa talk. Middle school Kageyama would have been overjoyed to see his senior so happy to be with him. Kageyama felt the same twinge of – what was it, the delight of being able to hold Oikawa’s attention?

He wanted to wash his mind out with a bar of soap. What was he thinking? The moment Oikawa beamed a smile his way, Kageyama did whatever he said.

_Why are you so obsessed with the Great King? I get that he’s cool, but you insert him into the conversation whenever you can. You sound like an ex who can’t get over his girlfriend._

Hinata’s declaration, coming straight from his mouth. Kageyama could remember the phrase word for word, no matter how hard he tried to forget the conversation. Ever since Hinata mentioned it, he made a purpose to avoid talking about Oikawa whenever he could.

“Oh my god,” Kageyama was snapped out of his thoughts when Oikawa grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. His eyes locked with wide brown ones. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Does Tobio-chan actually hate me?”

He looked like he was on the brink of crying, but Oikawa was known for being a drama queen, and with recently improved acting skills, Kageyama was sure he could pull off any desired look. “Stop calling me that,” Kageyama said instead, shoving him off and putting the volleyball back onto the pile of blue and yellow. “It sounds stupid.”

Oikawa’s frown melted into a grin. “Why not? I think it suits you!” His grin turned cheeky. “Tobio-chan. Kage-chan. Tobi-chan. Which do you prefer?”

“Kageyama works fine,” Kageyama grumbled.

“Tobio-chan it is!” Oikawa sang. “Tobio-chan, you don’t have to look so grumpy, I thought you liked hanging out with me.”

“I don’t.”

“Aw, come on,” Oikawa pouted. He took a seat on the mats he called ugly and yanked Kageyama down by the back of his collar before he could stop him. “Don’t you miss me? Not even a little bit?”

“No,” he grunted, landing heavily by his side.

“You’re so mean!” he scowled. The edges of his lips perked up. “You’ve always wanted volleyball advice, didn’t you?”

Despite himself, his chest warmed with a spark of hope. Oikawa giving him actual advice; it was the equivalent of winning a small lottery. But Kageyama had his pride to keep safe, so he turned his head away and fixed his sight on a patch of peeling paint near the back wall.

“Listen carefully,” Oikawa said, his grin seeping into his voice. “Because I won’t repeat this.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kageyama watched Oikawa. He was staring out the door of the storage room, at the tiny remnants of the fading light. Kageyama was struck by how intimate this moment felt. The light was hitting his dark brown hair, in such a way that a halo was cast over his head. _Angelic_. Oikawa closed his eyes and tilted his head back into the shadows, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

“Hard work over talent,” he whispered. “In a fight, it will always win.”

Before Kageyama could feel the disappointment, Oikawa leaped up from his seat and poked his head out of the doorway, glancing right, then left. He turned back to Kageyama, grinning. “I gotta go meet Iwa-chan today!” He exclaimed, as if it had anything to do with Kageyama. “Without me, he’s not going to pass his English test. Sweet dreams, Tobio-chan!”

Oikawa winked, tongue flashing out in a way that high schoolers wouldn’t be caught dead doing – but looking so right on him; only him – and was gone.

In a very dramatic flash, Oikawa had whirled into his life for the briefest of moments and disappeared before Kageyama could comprehend what was happening. Their time together in the small, outdoor storage room was short-lived, but Kageyama was already wondering how long it would take for him to forget about it.

Quickly, please. He didn’t want to be seeing shadows of Oikawa everywhere.

**because my mind holds**

**me back so very much**

Iwaizumi flipped through the manga, not reading, but staring at the images that spattered each page. He had always wanted to be talented when it came to art, but never had the chance to practice properly ever since he was lugged into volleyball without his consent. These days, he would much rather be spiking Oikawa’s tosses than honing his more artistic skills. Though it never stopped him from appreciating the carefully drawn characters and backgrounds in manga.

He thought of this sometimes. How would his life look like right now if Oikawa hadn’t head-butted his way in? It was pointless to wonder, but he couldn’t help but guess. It didn’t last long; a life without Oikawa after they had been attached at the hip for so many years was too boring, too plain.

Those words wouldn’t ever have a chance to make their way out of his mouth in front of his best friend. Yes, they were the best of friends in his mind, no matter how many times he scowled or rolled his eyes at the enormous-ego-ed guy. He would never say it aloud though. Iwaizumi didn’t want Oikawa’s head popping from the inflammation.

The doorbell rang and a familiar tune sang through the open hallways of his parents’ house, he raised his eyebrows. He was told he was going to be alone for the rest of the night since the rest of his family was out for some business-related trip. So who could –

 _Oh my fucking god_.

Iwaizumi leaped off his bed and lunged for the window, even though he already knew there was only one person who would ring the doorbell at such an ungodly hour in the night. Brown hair, familiar arrogant face _– oh my_ fucking _god_.

For a second, he considered leaving Oikawa out there. It was appealing, but before he could finish the thought, he had run downstairs and swung the front door open. Oikawa’s grinning face greeted him like always, as bright as the moon that hung high in the sky.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cheered, rushing forward and throwing his arms around Iwaizumi before he could blink.

Iwaizumi battered him off with less effort than usual. “Cut it out,” he grumbled, dusting himself off despite the fact that Oikawa kept himself a hundred times cleaner than he could ever himself. “What the hell are you doing here? You better be licking my shoes for not punching you. In fact, I should, right now – “

“Don’t be so mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whined, crossing his arms and pouting. “Geez, everyone needs to work on their attitude nowadays.”

Iwaizumi scowled. Oikawa was acting strange. He had always had a thing about being woken up in the middle of the night; something about his damn beauty sleep or whatever shit he complained about, and yet, it was half-past midnight, and Oikawa was at his doorstep. And now that Iwaizumi’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness outside, he could see spots of dirt on Oikawa’s normally too-clean, too-perfect clothing.

“It’s you who needs to work on your attitude,” he shot back. “And what’s with that face? Did you step on a cat’s tail or something?”

Oikawa laughed. “Nice guess! Something like that.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“You – “

“No,” Iwaizumi gave an exasperated sigh and flung the door wide open. “Shut up. I can’t stand seeing your face, so hurry up and get your ass in here before I call the cops.”

“So sweet, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa giggled. It reminded him of the girls who chased after Oikawa. He could feel a pressure headache beginning to form behind the lids of his eyes. “I knew you love me! But isn’t what you said kinda contradictory?”

“Get inside before I change your mind, dumbass.”

Truth be told, Iwaizumi did want to know. The only thing he was thinking about was the endless possible events that might have happened to cause his friend’s face to look so down – his best friend, his friend who was alarmingly sensitive to rude remarks and hid his emotions until they exploded like a bottle of shaken soda.

And when it came down to Oikawa, he would explode in the worst way possible. It had never happened before because Iwaizumi always pried it out of him, but he didn’t doubt the damage the bomb could cause.

“Why are you up so late anyway?” Oikawa asked, strolling into the house like he owned it. In a way, he did. They shared everything; anything that was his was Oikawa’s; anything that was Oikawa’s was his. Still, it pissed Iwaizumi off when he barged in and shoved every package of tofu-imitating pudding down his throat whenever he dropped by.

“I was reading manga,” Iwaizumi replied, too exhausted to come up with a snarky response. “What about you?”

Oikawa pulled a pudding out of his fridge and pulled the lid off. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, slurping the desert down without a spoon. Iwaizumi’s eyelid twitched. _That bastard_. “I was trying to study, for you know, finals. But then, can you believe it, I had an epiphany!”

He rolled his eyes. Drama queen. But Iwaizumi didn’t interrupt.

“You know how people meditate when they’re stressed?” Oikawa continued. “Well, walking is basically meditation, right? So while I was taking a stroll – hey! Don’t give me that look, I’m taller than you, and nobody’s gonna stab me, so suck it! _Anyway_ , I saw a stray. Remember the little black one with blue eyes that we fed back in middle school? The one that bit me?”

When he tried to recall the memory, nothing came up. He must have forgotten. Everybody always told him he had memory equivalent to a goldfish.

“Well, it bit me again,” Oikawa sighed. “Didn’t rip through my shirt, thank god. Don’t wanna have to deal with freaking rabies. But seeing it gave me a sense of purpose! Like if that little guy is still around, then there must be a reason why we’re still around, right?”

“An epiphany over a stray cat that you barely remember?” Iwaizumi grinned. “I don’t know what I was expecting. That’s so you.”

Oikawa shot him an offended frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Iwa-chan! I can’t believe you! You’re supposed to be amazed! I might as well change my career path and become a philosopher now!”

Iwaizumi choked at the image of a philosopher Oikawa. He laughed. “You’d look stupid.”

“I would look gorgeous doing anything!”

It wasn’t until two that they managed to get some go to bed.

Iwaizumi couldn’t get the thought that something was wrong with Oikawa. He might not have been the sharpest knife in the set, but they had been together for far too long for him to not notice something was up. Because he was a good friend, he stayed up. He counted each of Oikawa’s breaths until they slowed.

They never did, but in the morning, Oikawa rolled out of his guest futon and yawned as if he had just slept the best five hours of his life.

As he brushed his teeth and listened to Oikawa talk about his opinion on the color combination of yellow and red, he tried to remember the stray cat.

Black fur, blue eyes.

Oikawa used to be allergic to cats. Iwaizumi glanced at his friend from the corner of his eye.

And then he realized it _. He’s gotten better at acting_.

**it makes me sad**

**and frustrated**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the poem is by s.m. (2:09am)!! go check them out!
> 
> hope you liked that! i haven't written anything in a while so ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ
> 
> anyway! talk to me on [tumblr](https://aquartertohalf.tumblr.com/)! or just come and scowl at my drawings! it's kinda empty now, but time is literally the only thing i have ~


	2. liveliness for just a moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooo~~
> 
> sorry this took so long ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ the next chapter will probably come a lot quicker, since WOOO I DON'T HAVE SO MUCH HOMEWORK RIGHT NOW (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ this is probably the last light-hearted chapter in this story, 'cause i wanna write about some ANGST ᕕ(｀皿´)◝
> 
> anyway, hope you like the story!

**I lie here in the dark**

**Staring at the image of you**

Sometimes, Kageyama wondered what he could have done differently. Down the long chain of events, he did not doubt that somewhere at a crossroads, multiple crossroads, he had made a mistake. Countless mistakes that he was too stubborn or foolish or just blind to see. Perhaps if he had trained for a few extra minutes, his team could have won at Nationals. If he had tossed a little more accurately at the first round, if he could have just shaken off the jitters quicker.

He knew that Nationals would always haunt him, no matter what he did in the future. A dark spot of failure, just like his middle school self and the inability to make it past the finish line.

But for right now, the finish line was the exams. Kageyama was still a first year, and maybe if things had turned out differently, he wouldn’t care so much about his studies. But they are the only thing that he can succeed at the moment to prove he could still do his best. To prove to everybody that he was more than a good volleyball player, to prove to _himself_ that he was worthy. (Of just what, he wasn’t too sure.)

Which was why words were spinning on the pages of his textbook. Kageyama had never been one for studying or academics. His memory was spotty at best for the things he didn’t care about. He could force himself to care about English, but that would be the same as trying to spike a water balloon and expect it to not burst at the landing.

He had never felt so relieved when his phone buzzed, even though he knew of only five people who had his number, and listening to them talk was one of the many things that might make his head explode one day. The fact that he would rather risk the death of blood loss just goes to show how much he despised the strange, foreign letters of the English alphabet.

Kageyama picked it up and typed in his password. Just four digits, nothing fancy, because most people would know to not try to get in. (Besides Hinata and Tanaka, but he trusted his judgment on their intelligence enough to not worry.) Not that he had anything to hide.

It was from an unknown number. Kageyama squinted at the digits, pushing blocks of memory through his mind to try and recall the stranger. When almost a minute passed by, he gave up and clicked open the message.

 _Unknown:_ wanna go get lunch (*ゝω・)ﾉ

For a moment, Kageyama was astonished. There was just one cheeky person he knew of who used precarious faces like that, and their last meeting in the storage room was still fresh in his mind as if it happened just yesterday. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until his chest started hurting.

 _Unknown:_ like that emoji kageyama? its super cute!! tanaka showed me an app for it yesterday

Kageyama blinked. Ah. So other people used the same emojis, too.

 _Me:_ No.

Unknown: aren’t u gonna ask who this is??

 _Me:_ No.

 _Unknown_ : its hinata!! i lost my phone so this is the new number save meememe

With a click of his thumb, the screen turned dark and his face reflected against the black surface. There was a crease between his eyebrows. Kageyama had never liked looking at his own face. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The phone was vibrating against the palm of his hand, but he paid it no attention. Hinata didn’t realize how energy-draining it was to be around him, even through a few texts at a time.

Conversations with Hinata either left Kageyama one of two ways: hyped or bone exhausted. There was no in-between, and with his head still foggy from the textbook he just absorbed, he wasn’t about to take any chances. He set his phone back down on his table.

There was a knock of his door and the air in his lungs came rushing out to form one long sigh. “Come in,” Kageyama called, opening his eyes and shifting to face the exit of his bedroom.

It was his sister. Miwa poked her head into her room, holding a makeup brush and carrying a towel around her neck. She frowned at the state of his desk. Kageyama tried not to wince; usually, he kept his room spotless, but when he was studying for exams, he had a bad habit of pulling out papers from every corner he could find ( _just in case_ , he would tell himself, because he knew if he got up in the middle of studying, he wouldn’t be able to make himself sit back down again).

“Exams?” His sister asked with a grimace.

Kageyama nodded. “Yeah.”

Miwa rolled her eyes and smiled. “I would be proud you’re bothering to study if not for the fact that you look half-crazy.”

“I – “

“Here!” Miwa interrupted. She raised her hand and showed him a slip of paper containing words he couldn’t see with his tired eyes. “Go get some food for us. I got a client at noon and you can’t go blind. I’m leaving it on the kitchen table.”

“Wait,” he protested. “I still need to go over this chapter – “

She grinned. “Yeah, yeah, a fifteen-minute trip to the grocery store isn’t going to hurt you.”

Before he could argue, Miwa was running down the hall and locking herself back into her room. Kageyama let out what seemed to be the hundredth sigh that day. A few seconds crawled by and he was standing up and throwing on whatever clothing he could see first in his closet.

_A break can’t hurt._

**That I have created**

It most certainly can, he realized, when a dozen large packages of beans dropped from their hasty position on a high shelf. More than half collided with his back, the rest falling onto the back of his head and almost knocking him over. Kageyama hissed when the sharp edge of one box dug into his sore shoulder.

“What the hell,” he scowled, spinning around and expecting to see a laughing child. Instead, he came face to face with one of the employees of the grocery store – a small, nervous man that he towered over.

“M-my bad,” the worker stammered. “I was just setting these up…”

Kageyama couldn’t help but frown. When the man seemed to shrink, he mumbled, “It’s fine. Just be more careful next time.”

“Ah, yes, right.”

Kageyama took another look at the man before spinning around and walking the other direction. He had never been known to be good with socialization, and not only did this situation hurt, _physically_ , but he was also left with the same awkward feeling that made his stomach churn in the same way when he talked to people who he was uncomfortable with.

When he was in the clear, he let his shoulders relax with relief and reached into his pocket to find the paper with the items that his sister had told him to buy.

_Damn._

Of course, it wasn’t there. Kageyama couldn’t remember if he even brought it to the store with him or not. He stood there for a solid minute, confused and annoyed. _Whatever_ , he finally thought _. I’ll just buy whatever I think we need_.

His first instinct was to buy milk. Kageyama made his way to the drinks section of the store while he tried to puzzle out the rest of the items his family needed. The boxed beverages of his favorite drink in the world greeted him, coming in either a package of six or by itself. There were only a few left, and another person was walking into the aisle. Kageyama should –

The beams of light against the dark brown head of hair made him take a second glance. Who could possibly have the time to style hair with such care?

Ah, wait. There was only one person he knew of who bothered. Brown hair and brown eyes; a pretty face matched with a height that he used to admire (that may have been an understatement). Kageyama almost didn’t recognize him at first, with the glasses. They sat on his face like they spent the whole life atop the bridge of his nose, but Kageyama couldn’t recall one instance where he saw his senior wearing them. He was struck by a strange feeling. How much of life had passed without Oikawa spinning himself into his life?

The first impulse that flashed in his mind was to pretend he didn’t see him. His sister told him far too many times that he needed to leave past memories behind and never look over his shoulder to stare at them. And yet, he was staring at a past memory right now, standing less than a few short meters away from him.

Pretend. Yes, he could pretend. Oikawa did it all the time, Hinata attempted it once in a while, albeit horribly, Tsukishima had his bad habits – so why couldn’t he do it? Kageyama could turn around and walk home and pretend they never –

“Tobio-chan! We meet again. What a coincidence!”

Kageyama flinched. Why was it that on the court he could make split-second decisions, but when matters curved back to the other world, he was frozen to the spot and unable to think? Kageyama watched Oikawa make his way to his side, blinking rapidly to think of something to say.

“Oikawa-san,” he finally said.

Oikawa’s wide grin fell into a pout. “Why so formal?” he asked. “I thought we were past the that.”

Oikawa was staring at him expectantly. Kageyama stared back, dumbfounded. What was he supposed to say in response to that? Words were forming in his mouth, but the courage to spit them out wasn’t there. He shouldn’t be so nervous – this was _Oikawa_ , for god’s sake. The senior he was going to surpass in a year, perhaps even less. If anything, it should be Oikawa who acted threatened.

Threatened. Was that what he was feeling? Kageyama couldn’t tell the difference between respect and fear. The moment he laid out his emotions on a table to examine, he locked up and felt the same way he would if he was forced into a room full of English-speaking people. It didn’t matter, anyway. This was just a one in a million chance. In a year, this exchange would only be another memory stored in the departments in his mind that he never remembered.

Tsukishima would be calling him names for hesitating. Kageyama opened his mouth and –

“You’re blocking the cocoa powder,” Oikawa said bluntly.

Kageyama blinked. He glanced over his shoulder. Under the stacks of milk piled on the high shelves were small cylinder containers with pictures of hot chocolate on the cover. Oh. So he was. Kageyama swallowed and stepped aside. “Sorry.”

Oikawa hummed and couched down to squint at the tiny labels. The way the fluorescent lights above caught on the edge of his glasses was blinding. Kageyama shouldn’t have thought so far ahead. Oikawa didn’t care about him, just like he didn’t care about Oikawa. He was stupid to think that any extra words would be exchanged. He was also stupid to think that standing there, gazing at Oikawa pick hot chocolate types, was good for his head.

He watched as Oikawa huffed out a small sigh and began sweeping all the containers into the handheld cart. When did Oikawa start liking hot chocolate? The only thing he ever saw him drink was water.

There were at least ten packages of the stuff in the cart and counting. Did he really need that much hot chocolate?

Oikawa’s gaze flickered to Kageyama and their eyes caught. At Kageyama’s flinch, he grinned his pretty smile. Oikawa didn’t comment on the way he had been staring. Instead, he straightened and winked. “Well,” he sighed, contented. “It was nice seeing you here, but Iwa-chan needs me. Bye!”

And, in the same manner he disappeared in the storage room, Oikawa was gone. There was a strange feeling stirring in his chest. The examining table was there, but this time, Kageyama didn’t try to lay out the feeling for all to see. It was better to forget than dwelling on the issue.

Kageyama breathed out a long sigh. This was ridiculous. _He_ was ridiculous. He must have been hit on the back of the head with a volleyball one too many times. Something must have fallen loose in his brain, because why else would he be staring at the hot chocolate, wondering how it would taste?

He mentally cursed Oikawa as he bent down and grabbed a container of the cocoa powder.

**In my mind**

Kageyama frowned at the instructions. They were clear, but how would he know how to find the “perfect mixture” suited just for him? The recommended amount of cocoa powder was two spoonfuls per cup, but now that he was looking at the size of just one spoonful, Kageyama doubted the insight of these professionals.

He didn't understand why Oikawa liked this stuff so much. Just the smell of it gave Kageyama a slight headache and made the back of his throat tingle. That didn't matter in the end. It wasn't as if he could peak into his senior's mind and figure out what was different between the two of them. Not only would Kageyama be lost within the first few seconds with how quickly his mind spun, but Oikawa's logic was vastly different from his. Thinking about this was hopeless.

Kageyama ended up dumping half a spoonful of the powder into his water. As he stirred it, he contemplated this strange situation he found himself in. Trying out a new beverage that he was almost a hundred percent sure he despised merely for the fact that somebody who hated him liked it. Why was he even doing this anyway? To see the world through Oikawa's eyes? To get the two of them to be similar in some way? To get closer to him? Seeing his senior made him question the smallest things in life.

What a disgusting thought. Two meetings combined with a few carefree smiles and Kageyama was already forgetting about the constant insults that were thrown at him in middle school. But time had passed. Oikawa was different now. He was _nice_ to Kageyama.

And Kageyama liked that. He liked it a lot. More than a lot. Too much. He would never in a million years admit it, but he craved the senior's attention. _Notice me_ , he wanted to yell. _See me_.

The liquid in his pale cup was darkening. Kageyama pulled the spoon out of the cup and set it on the table, ignoring the way fluid dripped from the metal. When he raised it to his lips, his nose automatically scrunched up at the smell. _Too_ strong. 

He took a sip. The warmth that slid down his throat wasn't strong _enough_. It was far too watery. It tasted like a bad attempt at changing the dull flavor of water.

He should have followed the instructions. 

**You run so fast**

**Too fast**

Hinata liked to think that Kageyama and Tsukishima didn’t actually hate him. He wasn’t dead yet. Alright, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. His fingers haven’t been split open yet. Perfect. Actually, now that he thought about it, were they capable of murder? Maybe not Kageyama – he was far too dense in the street sense way to plan a murder. But Tsukishima? He hated to admit it, but the guy was in advanced courses in all his subjects. And knowing that four-eyed jerk and his scary eyes, Hinata wouldn’t put it past him.

He glanced at the pair nervously. They sat in the corner of the gym, both scrolling through their phones with dark expressions of their face. It was weird to see Kageyama focusing so intensely on his phone. Normally they dare let themselves be spotted together, but that corner was the only spot that had a good wifi connection.

Hinata let out a breath with a little too much force that squeaks a weird sound out from his throat. He was lucky there were fewer club members in the gym, or he’d never hear the end of it. The space always seemed a little too empty ever since they lost at Nationals. It was as if the spirit of the team had been beaten out of them along with their chance for a real win.

Hinata always thought that if they lost, Kageyama would be the one who could conceal his emotions the best. But the guy had been acting awfully strange as of late. Out of it and dazed. He might not like the setter too much – their relationship had always been rocky – but it was concerning.

Later, at the vending machine on their way home, Hinata watched Kageyama stare at the hot chocolate option. Almost a minute had passed. Hinata was a good guy – he might have been impatient, but this was weird. Very weird. So he waited, albeit in annoyance.

When the thirty more seconds crept by, Hinata cleared his throat. Kageyama jumped, spinning around and said, “What was that for?”

“You’re choosing a drink, not between life and death!” Hinata yelled. “And even if you were, it’d only take a second!”

“I’m not taking that long,” Kageyama said defensively. “I’m just thinking.”

“About calories?” Hinata shook his head. “Just pick your usual milk. I wanna go study for a bit. I swear I’m going to fail math because of you.”

“Since when did you care about your grades?” Kageyama asked incredulously.

Hinata was offended. He wasn’t that bad at school. “Since when did you care about anything other than milk and yogurt and volleyball?”

“I care about a lot of things!”

Hinata stared. “You do?”

Kageyama took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. “The fact that you’re actually serious about what you just said is even more insulting,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

Now, Hinata might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knew what things meant when he heard them. Most of the time. He was about to open his mouth to spit out his next comeback when Kageyama jabbed his finger against the chocolate milk option. Chocolate milk! An extra word that he personally knew the setter despised. Was this what they called teenage experimentation? Teenage rebellion, that was it.

“Get that gross look off your face,” Kageyama scowled as he bent down to grab his drink. “I can tell you’re thinking something stupid.”

“I’m just concerned about your rebellion phase, that’s all!” Hinata blurted.

That made Kageyama finally glance at him. “What?”

“Are you going for – “ A disturbing idea popped into his head and Hinata shuddered. “Drugs next?” He whispered in a cautious tone.

Kageyama gaped, horrified. “ _What?_ ”

“No, no!” Hinata yelped, even more horrified. Why was this type of reaction always the outcome of their prolonged conversations? “I won’t tell anyone, I swear! Just,” He coughed and dropped his voice into a frantic whisper. “Drugs are _bad_ for you!”

The mini chocolate milk carton dropped from Kageyama’s hand and he took a wary step back, eyes wide with shock and confusion. “ _What?_ ”

“Don’t worry,” Hinata yelled. “I won’t say a word! But,” He gulped. “What type is it?”

“What the,” Kageyama squeaked, his voice rising with each word. “ _Fuck!_ ”

“Kageyama, calm down!” Hinata waved his arms around in an attempt to settle his (maybe) friend. “Your secret is safe with me! But have you ever considered, you know, rehabilitation?”

“I’m not taking fucking drugs!” Kageyama yelled. “How the hell did you even come to that conclusion?”

He wasn’t? Now that Hinata looked closer, there weren’t any signs of substance abuse on his face, and Kageyama _was_ a horrible liar. “Yeah?” Hinata squinted suspiciously, still clinging onto his impulse idea. “That’s what they all say.”

“I swear,” Kageyama took what seemed to be the hundredth deep breath today and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What is even going on in your head?”

“Thoughts!” Hinata sputtered. With the disgusting look on Kageyama’s face, he was seriously doubting his instinct. “Just – nevermind! Let’s go get some food or something!”

Hinata spun around and took off in the general direction of his home. The sound of Kageyama’s annoyed sigh was the only indication that he was following. He may have been wrong this time, but Kageyama was still acting weird.

**For me to catch up**

**To keep up**

Kageyama mentally cursed Oikawa and all his chocolate milk as he watched Hinata sprint down the road. Before he ran after him, Kageyama picked up the fallen carton of milk that he had almost forgotten about amid Hinata’s grand epiphany. The smiling cow on the box grinned at him and he swore again before shoving it into one of his pockets and taking off after his teammate.

By the time that arrived at the fast-food joint, Kageyama had caught up and they stood side by side on the yellow tinted grass, huffing from exertion. His legs ached like they usually did after one of many of their awful races. Why he even bothered, was beyond him. A problem for another day.

“Why did we run?” Kageyama groaned when they caught their breath.

Hinata coughed and hit his chest. “Why not?”

“Stupid answer,” He replied with a dry throat.

“You’re stupid.”

“We’re not doing this.”

“Fine. Jerk.”

With a silent agreement, they wiped the sweat off of their brow and stalked into the restaurant with the best of their ability to refrain from looking half-dead.

They chose the table beside the window after exchanging a couple of glares. While Hinata ordered for the both of them, Kageyama pulled out his phone and typed in his password with twitchy fingers. The article that he had been reading, _13 Things You Might Not Know About Hot Chocolate_ , made the air in his lungs catch in embarrassment. He rushed to close the tab, but paused at the last second, thumb hovering over the delete button. He turned off his phone instead.

“What are you looking at?” Hinata asked.

Kageyama yelped, device flying from his hands. Heads turned in the restaurant as he managed to only just snatch it out of the air. “Nothing!” He quickly said. With shaky hands, he opened his chocolate milk and took a long gulp of the cold liquid. It tasted strange on his tongue and he couldn’t imagine who could possibly drink this for the sake of drinking it.

Hinata gave him a strange look he couldn’t decipher as he set two bowls of ramen on the table. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“No reason.”

“Is it a girlfriend?”

He choked. It took several hacks and a moment of burning eyes to clear his throat while Hinata watched with mild concern. “No! Stop asking stupid things!”

Hinata frowned. “Well, I guess that’s true,” he mused. “There’s no way a girl would want to date you.” Before Kageyama could say anything in response, Hinata went on. “It’s just, you’re being strange! You didn’t do _the_ _toss_ to me today! Or yesterday or the day before that. And you’re staring at your phone. And drinking chocolate milk. Which you hate.”

Kageyama didn’t know what to say. Oikawa would know exactly how to get out of this situation. He would smooth talk his way to the exit, make a joke, and conclude the conversation with a bright note, on a completely different topic. _God, I hate him_. In the end, he said with a lame, “I’m not being weird.”

Hinata scrunched up his nose. “Yeah, okay.”

**I wake up every morning**

**With doubt warming my bed**

Iwaizumi scanned the classroom for Oikawa. It took less than half a second, with the mob of girls that surrounded him, like mosquitos to light in the darkness. He heaved a sigh. The only reason why they didn’t walk to lunch together was because of his friend’s constant crowd of fans. They gave him chocolates, whatever food they made in home economics, showered him with kind words, and just pampered him in general. Oikawa always received it all with his bright, charming smile, never refusing the gifts, no matter how awful, and never dismissing love letters, no matter how often they came. It never was a _no_ , but a _maybe next time_. Iwaizumi would never admit it to a living soul, but despite Oikawa’s trash worthy attitude, he was a good person.

 _What a disgusting thought_ , Iwaizumi thought, already feeling light-headed even though he hadn’t yet walked over to the table to rescue the setter. Before he could, and thank god he couldn’t, Oikawa glanced over his shoulder and spotted him. He watched as his friend’s eyes light up like fireworks on New Year’s.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa called, raising his arm and flashing a cheeky peace sign. “Give me a second, okay? Okay!”

He turned back to the pack of girls (and the occasional stray boy) and grinned apologetically. Iwaizumi leaned against the wall and waited as he watched Oikawa say something and leap out of his seat. Moments later, they were walking down the hall, Oikawa skipping along and brushing his fingers against the cracks in the wall.

“Did you miss me, Iwa-chan?” He asked, giggling. “I missed you!”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, seconds away from delivering a smack against Oikawa’s head. “Don’t be an idiot, Trashykawa,” he muttered. “Why are you so happy today?”

Oikawa’s grin widened. “What do you mean? I’m always like this!” His eyebrows jumped on his forehead and he stopped in his tracks. “Hey, I left something in the change rooms, come with me to go get it, Iwa-chan.”

By this point in their friendship, Iwaizumi knew arguing was going to get him nowhere, but for the sake of keeping his dignity, he shouted, “I’m hungry! Go without me!”

“But I’ll be lonely,” Oikawa whined, already grabbing his wrist and dragging him in the opposite direction of his classroom. “C’mon, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

Iwaizumi muttered under his breath but let himself be pulled along.

Oikawa was right; it did only take a few minutes. No wonder, with the speed they were running at. “What was that even for?” Iwaizumi puffed, lungs empty even with his frantic inhales. “Who are we racing against? Time?”

“Outrunning time is impossible, Iwa-chan.”

“I fucking _know_ that, idiot!”

Oikawa laughed. “Help me find a book! It’s got this super cool red cover.” He took off in one direction of lockers, leaving Iwaizumi to fend for himself in spite of the fact that _he_ was the one who was dragged here.

“That’s an awful description,” He scowled at the empty space where Oikawa used to be. Sometimes, it seemed as if he couldn’t keep up with the setter. It seemed that at one moment, he was there, solid and breathing. The next, he was gone, as if he had completely vanished from the earth. It only took a moment, before all traces Oikawa left behind had disappeared.

Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose with annoyance and scanned the lockers. They were all ajar, free from the restraint of locks. He opened them fully one by one, irritation prickling under his skin with more intensity every time he was met with blank metal walls.

It was his twenty-first locker that he finally stumbled upon something. A red book, just like Oikawa had described. He reached in and picked it up. The cover was strange, a complete mash of reds and pinks. In the bottom left corner held a little character, a poorly drawn stick figure on purpose, while the top right were the words _Laws of Spotlight: 11 th Rule of Scarcity_. Iwaizumi squinted. Oikawa liked books that told fantastical stories of aliens from the edge of the universe, not boring non-fiction on random topics.

“You found it!” Oikawa’s voice sang in his ear and the book was pulled from his hands. He grinned. “You’re so sweet; thank you!”

Iwaizumi frowned. “What does scarcity have to do with spotlight?”

“Oh, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighed, dramatic and patting his shoulder as if he was comforting a crying baby. “I would explain it to you, but your tiny, simpleton brain would never be able to understand.”

He shoved a laughing Oikawa away from him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Iwaizumi scowled, storming out of the changing room. “I’m never helping you with anything again, dumbass.”

Oikawa’s giggles followed him down the hallway as he stomped his way back to his classroom. “Aw, don’t be like that!” He swung an arm around Iwaizumi. “You love me! Where would I be if you weren’t by my side?”

“Dead!” Iwaizumi shouted, struggling but never managing to dislodge himself.

Oikawa sighed. “That’s for sure.”

**To wonder if I was good enough**

**To walk by your side**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the poem is written by ike!!
> 
> writing this chapter felt so unnatural for some reason (・_・ヾ but that's okay~
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](https://aquartertohalf.tumblr.com/)! still kinda empty, but i plan to fill it up with fanart (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑. 
> 
> love you all~ (*・∀-)☆


	3. ploys are truths when you perceive them that way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, how are you all? ~ヾ(＾∇＾)
> 
> one week this time! i think it's going well! anyway, we get to see oikawa's perspective of things this time. i like him very much, i swear. did i ever say this is slow burn? ahhh i wanna speed things up and write about the dramatic stuff, but (￣^￣)ゞ i'm here to do my duty.

**One day, I know that you**

**Will leave me in the dust**

Oikawa considered himself to be a lucky person. Blessed with the gift of good looks, charisma and confidence that could fuel a rocket, intelligence, and the willpower to pull off unbearable amounts of hard work. People looked up to him. All his life, he had been in front of a crowd, whether that be at an award ceremony, around his fans, or showered with attention during volleyball, the one thing he cherished and pressed close to his heart was the thought of other people. So why, _why_ did all their awed faces mean nothing to him?

As he stared at all the men and women who clapped for a title that meant nothing, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel happy. The polite clapping eventually ceased, and Oikawa made his way down the stage with the rest of the graduates. Finally, his high school life was over. He had graduated and was moving rapidly towards adulthood.

Oikawa was never one to be confused with his emotions. He felt what he felt and knew exactly what it was, no matter how awful or disturbing. But right now, identifying the tightness in his chest was something he didn’t want to do – couldn’t do. He stilled smiled and winked at the pretty girls sitting in the crowd, but the pride that usually made his grins shine wasn’t there. Not that it bore any significance if he was really happy to them. As long as they had his attention, they were satisfied.

By the time all the graduates took their seat in the front after a circle around the room, the boy beside him was sniffling. Beads of tears flowed down his cheeks, freely and with emotion. Oikawa recognized his face but couldn’t place the name. He watched the boy from the corner of his eye, wondering just _why_ so many tears flooded his face.

_Why are you crying?_ He wanted to ask _. It’s not as if anybody will remember you in five years. It’s not as if they matter_. And he knew it was true. At least, from what he could see. Any student who he didn’t know the name of were loners, forgotten by the crowd and those popular ones who sat in the middle of the classroom. He was an asshole.

When Oikawa focused his attention back onto the man making his speech, the girl on his left was bawling as well. He knew her. She was one of the girls at the edge of the admired crowd, noticed, but dismissed a moment later.

Luck, he concluded – it all came down to luck. Luck to be born with a pretty face, luck to be born with talent, luck to be born into the right circumstance, to have the right mindset, to bring wealth, and sneak past death.

A few months ago, Oikawa would have called all of it bullshit. People who worked hard and pushed past hard times succeeded. People who didn’t, failed. Lately, he has been doubting this notion. Though lately, he had been doubting a lot of the things he once thought he was so sure of.

Ignorance was bliss.

An hour later, the ceremony was finally concluded. The students and teachers were free to roam the halls of the schools, filling paperwork, exchanging phone numbers with friends, and doing whatever they did on the last remaining day of school. Oikawa, like always, found himself by the side of his favorite childhood friend, his only childhood friend.

“We’re getting old, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighed dreamily, munching on one of the many packages of milk bread he had received from his admirers. The gesture meant close to nothing to him, but the sweet taste of it in his mouth was more than enough to make up for the rest. “In a few years, we’re gonna die too.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic,” Iwaizumi grumbled. But he turned his face to hide what Oikawa was sure was teary eyes. “We’re barely even starting.”

Typical Iwaizumi. Oikawa liked Iwaizumi. He was a good friend, despite all the violence that has been launched into his life ever since they got to know each other. He was a good person in general, kind and caring. But most of all, he was steady. Like a pillar to grab old of when things were rough, when the ocean tides threatened to sweep him off his feet. But his tough pillar was going away soon.

Or rather, _Oikawa_ would be the one leaving. He wished they could stay in each other’s lives, closer than hundreds of miles apart. But the offer from a sport specializing university in Tokyo was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he wasn’t about to let what he felt get in the way of his future. They would stay best friends, because anything else would be unacceptable.

Iwaizumi would remain here, at home, while Oikawa left for the big city. The thought of mixing with the busy people in the city they all talked so highly about should have made his heart pound.

“What are you going to do without me?” Oikawa shook his head and grinned. “You’ll be a mess after not seeing me everyday.”

“I should be the one saying that,” Iwaizumi grunted. “You’ll set your dorms on fire and your roommate will slash your throat in the middle of the night.”

Oikawa pouted. “That’s oddly specific, Iwa-chan! What makes you think my roommate won’t love me?”

“With your attitude?” Iwaizumi snorted, as if that was the strangest thing in the world. “Not a chance, Assikawa.”

“You’re right,” Oikawa mumbled, latching onto Iwaizumi. Now the tears were coming. They blurred his eyes and made a pain spike deep in his chest. “Only you can take care of me.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Well shit, now that you’re admitting it, I need to think of a better insult.” But he patted Oikawa’s hair, gently as to not ruffle it, because he knew Oikawa threw a fit if stray hairs flew.

Oikawa knew he shouldn’t cry. There was a two-minute sweet spot for when he cried, two full minutes where he knew he looked beautiful with teary eyes and deep red flushing his face. Anything past that wasn’t a show he would let the world to see. But with the tension in his throat and chest, he was well aware the tears wouldn’t stop streaming with his sheer willpower.

This time was strange. It didn’t feel like the sobbing back during their loss against Karasuno or when he won the Best Setter Award back in elementary school. That was a feeling of uncontrollable explosions of feeling. This was no feeling. It made his own warm tears feel cold against his cheeks. It left him wondering when the last time he felt the sunshine against his face. Drowning – it felt like drowning.

Iwaizumi tugged him into the changerooms where nobody could watch and sat by his side, silent, until his eyes dried up. A good friend, in spite of all the aggression.

“How do I look?” Oikawa finally mumbled, but not caring because Iwaizumi was _Iwaizumi_.

Iwaizumi took one look at his face and pressed a few fingers against his forehead. “Like shit,” he replied.

Oikawa laughed. His throat felt hoarse. Things felt strange lately, a little numb and a little too much too handle at the same time. The prospect of graduating from a life he knew so well was messing with his head.

Emotions were funny things.

It took only a few moments for Oikawa to fix himself up. The moment they stepped out of the changerooms he was bombarded by classmates. Oikawa wanted to shove through the crowd and take a breath of fresh air outside, not linger with these people who he didn’t care about anymore, but years of building up his carefully planned reputation wasn’t ready to fall yet. So he stayed and smiled like he always did.

“Oikawa-san!” One girl squeaked, flushing and woefully embarrassed. “W-would you like to exchange phone numbers?” She fiddled with the small device in her hands, looking as if she regretted even opening her mouth. “Since we won’t be seeing each and all…”

She was cute. Very cute, with long blond hair that looked natural and big brown eyes. Oikawa grinned and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, sorry about that,” he sighed with a small pout. “But I lost my phone last week and I don’t have a replacement yet. I would have loved to though!”

“No, it’s okay!” She said quickly. “I – “

“Here!” Another girl shoved a piece of paper into his hands. Oikawa didn’t need to look at it to know it contained a very carefully scribbled phone number. “Have number. Call me if you want to hang out.”

_Shy one,_ Oikawa thought as she rushed in the other direction. He spent the next few minutes collecting phone numbers and promising to contact them the moment he bought his new phone. Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose the entire time, looking moments away from an explosion. Eventually, they managed to get away, though not without numerous slips of paper and several boxes of handmade food.

“Stupid,” Iwaizumi muttered on the way to where the boy’s volleyball team promised to meet on the last day of school. “Why do you lie to them every time?”

Oikawa grinned. “Rejection hurts, Iwa-chan,” He said.

A false sense of security, Oikawa had realized, was what people longed for. If they were given the chose to sleep in a temple adorned with magnificent drawings of the gods and an open doorway or out in the open in the woods, they would almost certainly choose the temple. It didn’t matter that murderers could easily step through the entry, or the fact that sleeping on cold floors froze up their body every morning. The walls give comfort, and really, that was all a person needed.

In a while, Oikawa’s name would fade from their memories, and a few phone numbers in the trash can at home wasn’t anything new to his parents.

When they arrived to the gym, the first years were standing near the edge, looking nervous as they watched the older students bite back their tears. Yahaba was standing beside the door of the gym, a ball of anxious energy. He was a second year, the future captain of Aobajohsai’s team, as well as the one to replace Oikawa.

Oikawa could see why he was so nervous. He was going to be taking _Oikawa’s_ spot as the leader, after all. Anything less would be noticed immediately and anything more would be labeled as good luck. A respectable ex-captain would give him a few kind words and advice. _Right_. Iwaizumi shot him a knowing look before leaving him to join Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

“Yahaba-chan!” Oikawa shouted cheerfully, clapping his back and successfully scaring him.

“Oikawa-san!” Yahaba jumped. “Congratulations on your graduation!”

Oikawa grinned. “Thank you. I’ll pretend that that’s something special and ignore the fact that thousands of other students probably passed that goal today.”

Yahaba laughed. Awkwardly, he noted. “I guess so,” he said. “I’m glad you’re able to continue playing volleyball in university.”

“It’s the only thing I’m willing to reach for,” he said with a content sigh. _Happy, but not really, but Yahaba-chan doesn’t need to know that_. His future wasn’t what they needed to talk about. That was for him to figure out later, alone, in the dark of his room. Oikawa patted his underclassman’s shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll be leaving my team in your trusty hands, yeah? Think you’re ready to take on that challenge?”

“Ah…” Yahaba smiled, though it looked more like a hopeful grimace. “I hope so. It’ll be hard to fill your shoes.”

“What do you mean? You’re doing great already. It won’t be long before they forget about me.”

Yahaba looked confused. “What do you mean? You’re the best captain this school has had for a long time.”

The best captain. Oikawa knew he was a good captain. He was self-concious, not in the nervous way, but in the understanding way. He knew when he did a good job and knew why he did a good job. But hearing it aloud from somebody was a whole other matter than convincing himself. It made familiar embers of pride light up in his chest.

“Is there…” Yahaba hesitated. “Any advice I should know, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa hummed. “Worrying is an awful feeling,” Oikawa commented instead. There were dozens upon dozens of ideas of how the team could be improved in his head, but none of them seemed good enough to share. “You’ll do fine. Be patient with people and smile big!” He grinned and pointed at his mouth. “The team already trusts you and in the end that’s really all you should worry about.”

“I see.” He sounded unsure.

“There’s not much genius I can teach you, Yahaba-chan. You’ve been training the first years well already. What makes you think you won’t be able to keep doing that?”

Yahaba looked away. “I don’t really have your confidence.”

That made Oikawa laugh. For a few seconds, the taut feeling in his throat lifted. “What a compliment,” he cheered. “Great that you think that way – it means I’ve done a good job!” He let out a giggle. “Not that I didn’t know that. But – “ Oikawa nodded. “I’m no more confident than you are, really! Some in pure egotism, but the rest of it, well, I fake.”

Yahaba’s eyes blinked open a fraction wider. “It never seems that way.”

Oikawa winked. “Maybe I have a career as an actor ahead of me! Anyway, I gotta go grab some tissues for those crybabies over there. See you!”

Oikawa watched as a wide smile spread across his underclassman’s face. He flashed a peace sign and bounded across the gym to join his friends. Another task accomplished.

**Alone, scared,**

**And desperate for your hand**

Somehow, for the second time that week, Oikawa found his way to his middle school. The sun had set and the only thing lighting his path were the dim streetlights that surrounded the sidewalks. Today was the day of graduation, so he expected the area to be free of security. Nobody really wanted to linger after dark at a school they were forced to go to anyway.

A few minutes later, he was over the fence and his feet were landing on the trampled yellow grass of the back the facility. Oikawa’s stomach churned each time he looked at the building. Sure, he created unforgettable memories here, memories that he would never let go of, but not all of them were good.

A flash of silver caught his eye in the grass. Oikawa’s hands were too beautiful to ruin, and he wasn’t gross enough to pick it up, but he crouched down to take another look. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a button. A laugh escaped him. Today was graduation day, and that was probably a second button. He couldn’t remember if middle school had the same tradition of giving your second button to the person you liked, but it was cute. Ah, right, so that was why the girls stared at him expectantly. He’d forgotten.

In the corner of the eye was the outdoor storage room. It was where he and Kageyama had their little conversation. Just the thought of that memory left a bitter taste in his mouth. _God, I hate him_. Being around Kageyama made him feel petty and selfish, two traits that he knew defined the majority of his personality, but that didn’t mean he wanted to believe it. It made his heart lift when he remembered that Karasuno lost at Nationals.

But that meant Shiratorizawa with that damned _Ushijima_ won, and Oikawa didn’t know which was better.

In a sick way, he liked this anger. It reminded him that he still breathed in air and he still had a future full of wonderful things ahead of him. It reminded him that he was still _alive_ , and wasn’t that what life was all about? Endless hope and believing?

For the past few weeks, Oikawa had made a habit of coming to this wretched place. It was a bad habit, but his feet always led him here. The fence that he leaned on became his sacred place, where the memories of his childhood could flood his mind.

Childhood. He was leaving that behind. When he was younger, one of the things he longed for was to grow up quicker, faster, so people would take him and his ambitions more seriously.

He wished he would cry. At least after that, he would feel more alive.

All he wanted to do now was to freeze time, to make it all stop, right here, right now.

**I want to hurt you first**

**Before you can hurt me**

Unlike every other morning, Oikawa woke up without the shrieking sound of his alarm clock. He set it to blare out music at exactly seven each day. It used to seem like an ungodly time to wake up so early, but he had long since learned that school was far, and he needed more than the average time to fix up his face and hair.

He stared at the ceiling for several long moments.

_Get up,_ he told himself.

_But I wanna sleep more. The bed’s so warm_ , another part of him whined.

A smile cracked at his lips. At least his head was still screwed on properly.

A few minutes later, he was out of bed and turning off his phone’s alarm. Oikawa glanced with squinting eyes through the slit of his curtains and into the outside world. It was a nice day. He should go out. _Should_.

_No, I’m going out_ , he promised himself, even though everything in his heart told him the best idea would be to just stay home and spend the early hours reading.

It took effort to drag himself out of the house so early on a weekend, but he prided himself on his willpower and managed to do it anyway. Oikawa made his way to the local park, where he and Iwaizumi used play and catch the disgusting insects his friend was so interested in. Maybe seeing people would help wake him up.

Perhaps he made himself out to be smarter than he really was, because it was only when he arrived that he realized it was barely light out and nobody was there. Oikawa sighed and took a seat on the wooden bench beside the playground. He should have gone out later.

But oh, there was someone.

Kageyama stood a few meters away, eyes wide and staring at him. His mouth was open, and his chest heaved in little breathes of air. Must have been out for a run. _Perfect_. A grin stretched across Oikawa’s face and a flood of emotion finally spilled into his chest. It felt as if the universe wanted them to keep meeting. Which, for once, Oikawa didn’t mind so much.

Oikawa flashed a wink and Kageyama flinched. Ever so awkward.

_This is going to be fun. But god, I fucking hate him_.

**But I take a look into your blue eyes**

**And realize I can’t do the impossible**

Kageyama went on morning runs with Hinata. This was what usually took place at the crack of dawn, if not for that fact that Hinata had a meetup with that cat-eyed setter from Nekoma. He felt a little insulted to know that he was replaced, but Hinata was Hinata and it didn’t really matter anyway. Today, he jogged down the empty sidewalks alone, filling his ears with music to distract from the burn in his lungs.

A few months ago, after meeting with Oikawa, he had extended his route all the way toward his old middle school and the little park near the supermarket around the corner. Kageyama told himself it was for his own good, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes strayed to the storage room every time he passed the school. When each time he was met with emptiness, he wondered if the universe only meant for them to meet twice.

It wasn’t as if he was actively seeking the other setter out or anything. That would be ridiculous, to be near the object of his annoyance and frustration.

As he ran, he let his mind wander. During these quiet moments containg only music and the sound of his own breath, Kageyama used to discover new ways his training could be improved. But lately, he found that his head didn’t want to comply with what he wanted to think about.

He knew Oikawa’s graduation was yesterday. The third years from Karasuno had graduated at the same time after all. It was filled with tears and hugs that Kageyama would never admit. He wondered if Oikawa cried when he realized he was finally leaving high school. Probably not. Throughout the time they’ve known each other, Kageyama had only seen him cry twice, and both times were associated with volleyball. Oikawa wasn’t one for crying.

_Right?_ He didn’t know. The senior was kind these days. Maybe other things had changed too. The thought made resentment rise in his chest, even though forgetting Oikawa was the best thing he could ever do for himself.

The view of the tiny park finally came in sight, and –

_Oikawa_.

The face that should have a smile on it made him stop. Kageyama stood there, heaving for air as he stared. Again. He shouldn’t stare. He should look away and never look back. Why couldn’t his eyes understand that?

Oikawa turned around and their gazes locked. He watched as a smile spread on his face. It shined in the soft morning sun. Oikawa winked and Kageyama flinched. This was too familiar, as if they’d been best friends for all of eternity instead of rivals. The last time they met in the store was still fresh in his mind. The last thing he wanted was to be dismissed so quickly and he mentally prepared himself for just a quick greeting.

“Tobio-chan!” Oikawa called, getting to his feet slowly and strolling across the pavement. “Why are you running around so early in the morning? You’re gonna catch a cold, you know.”

“It’s summer,” Kageyama said. His lungs were aching, but he didn’t want to see incompetent in front of Oikawa. Old habits die hard.

Oikawa grinned. “Only idiots catch colds in the summer.”

Mean Oikawa, there he was. This seemed a little different from back in middle school. Off. Was it teasing? That was… different. Kageyama didn’t understand him and didn’t want to spend the time to figure out what he really meant behind flirty words.

Flirty. _Flirty_. His face was burning. He hoped Oikawa would dismiss it as the effort from his run, but with that shit-eating smile on his face, Kageyama didn’t seem to think so. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “How are you?”

“Aw, were you thinking of me?” Oikawa cooed. It was disgusting, because he _was_. “I graduated yesterday, you know!”

“What,” he paused. “What university did you choose?”

Oikawa laughed. Kageyama didn’t see what was so funny. “That’s for me to know,” he stuck his hands in his pockets and the edges of his eyes crinkled up with amusement. “And for you to wonder about!”

Now Kageyama felt stupid for asking. A small part of him that craved for this moment to go on forever wished that Oikawa responded with a normal answer. “Whatever.”

“Don’t be so defensive,” Oikawa pouted. “Do you really wanna know? I can’t have you chasing after me forever, can I?”

He hated that tone. “I’m not chasing anyone.”

Oikawa hummed in what seemed like mild disbelief. “What have you been up to, Tobio-chan?”

“Volleyball,” Kageyama replied automatically.

“Just volleyball?” Oikawa widened his eyes in his persistent way. “Let’s forget the part where you thought about me!”

Kageyama scowled, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Don’t flatter yourself, Oikawa-san. You haven’t changed at all.”

Oikawa looked to the ground, and at that moment, Kageyama realized they were nearly the same height. Something fluttered in his chest and he felt a compulsive need to cough. “Why would I want to change?” Oikawa whispered, so quiet the soft morning breeze threatened to sweep away his words. “I was perfect before.”

And then he raised his head and beamed. “But I’m even better now. I’ll wreck you, Tobio-chan,” he said, eyes pouring with intensity.

“That’s what you said before our last match,” Kageyama shot back. “And look who came out on top.”

“You’re so haughty, Tobio-chan!” Oikawa whined, pressing a hand vaguely against where the spot his heart was in a show of hurt. “Don’t you feel _anything_ for your handsome senior?”

“No,” Kageyama lied. There were more words he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut and pushed past Oikawa. A part of him wanted to leave him stranded in the middle of their conversation and continue with his morning run, but he found himself stalking up to the bench Oikawa was relaxing on earlier and sat down.

He concentrated on the spot beneath the slide in the playground and watched Oikawa from his peripheral vision. Oikawa, the observant _asshole_ , hopped to his side and said, “Mean, Tobio-chan!” while his lips carried a smirk. Kageyama had never been good at lying and lying to Oikawa of all people was somewhat impossible.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Kageyama muttered.

Oikawa huffed. “Exam season’s over and I wanna be here, okay?”

_He wanted to be here_. It was as if Kageyama had accidentally stepped into a time machine and had been swept back to middle school, where he still sought out Oikawa’s praises and longed for any hint that his petty feelings of admiration and respect were returned. During that match against Aobajohsai, he had thought everything had finally changed.

But nothing had. A few pleasant words from Oikawa and his chest was already tight. Tight from hearing what he’d always wanted to hear and from hating how much he wanted to hear it.

Oikawa pushed at his shoulder and Kageyama finally looked at him. Oikawa looked the same. Ever so attractive, suggestive hints of playfulness embedded in his every movement, confidence ready to sweep people off their feet.

“Move over,” Oikawa said. “My legs are tired. I want to sit.”

“You didn’t even do anything! Don’t come closer –"

“You don’t know that! I could have run a marathon before taking a well-deserved rest!”

Kageyama scrunched up his nose. “Did you?”

“Of course not, Tobio-chan!” Oikawa scoffed, jabbing an elbow against Kageyama’s side. “I play _volleyball_. I don’t run _marathons_. Although, I’m happy that you think I can do that!” He paused. “Which, I can, by the way!”

“I never said that –”

“Anyway!” Oikawa stood up; hands placed firmly on his hips. “It was nice meeting you here, but I gotta go. I’m going to take a tour of my new school and the train is leaving soon!”

Kageyama opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say that would make him stay. But like every other time, Oikawa winked and spun around, smiling distantly at his phone and typing away like it was his life’s goal as he walked off in another direction.

It was only when his senior walked out of sight that Kageyama realized what he had just said.

_“I’m going to take a tour of my new school and the train is leaving soon!”_

He was taking a train. A _train_. He needed to take a train to get to his school. From the little he knew about transportation, trains were necessary only for schools in areas as far as Tokyo. Anywhere closer and a bike or a car ride would suffice.

Oikawa was going somewhere as far as Tokyo. Which meant he was undoubtably going to move there.

Kageyama leaped from the bench and frantically rushed down the road Oikawa had taken before he paused to think. It was the beginning of summer. He had time left.

To do what? To say goodbye? Oikawa may have not despised his presence, but he had cut off randomly _again_ and rushed off to do something more important. He hadn’t even told Kageyama the school he would be attending. They weren’t going to see each other again before Oikawa left for university – he wished he had gotten that name – and it would be fine. Kageyama would continue on with his life like before; it wasn’t as if he needed his senior to disrupt everything once every few weeks.

He didn’t care; there was nothing to care about.

Kageyama still had to force himself not to run after Oikawa.

**I’ll wait**

**Patiently**

**Silently**

**Obediently**

Iwaizumi opened the door. Fucking. Oikawa. Again. “What the hell is it now?” He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his friend shoved past him and strolled into the kitchen like he owned the place. “I don’t care how early you get up but could you stop your selfishness and not disturb other people of their sleep?”

Oikawa glanced at him over his shoulder and Iwaizumi caught a grin. “Sorry, Iwa-chan,” he sang. “I know you really need your beauty sleep. Really, really need it – ow!”

Oikawa gingerly touched the back of his head and pouted. “What was that for?”

Iwaizumi shot him a scowl. “Don’t get on my fucking nerves or I’m kicking you out.”

“You would never,” Oikawa’s pout flipped into a grin and he opened the fridge. And Iwaizumi hated him because he really would never. “You love me too much.”

“Do you get that shit from the trash?”

“Mean!”

Iwaizumi sighed. It was still early in the morning, at least for a weekend, he was tired and all he wanted was for the house to be quiet again. Thank god his parents were heavy sleepers. “Shouldn’t you be packing right now?”

Oikawa hummed. “For what?”

He wanted to hit him again. “For your trip to Tokyo, dumbass! I thought that university is important to you!”

“Oh, that,” Oikawa waved his hand dismissively, grinning with innocent eyes. “It’s next week, remember?”

**(You wish)**

**For you to leave me**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this poem is by ike! super cool ( ᐛ )و
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](https://aquartertohalf.tumblr.com/)!


	4. he thinks that this is what hope looks like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i believe i've confirmed the idea that me chucking out chapters consistently is like waking up and living a perfect life. AHAHAA i try thoooo ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚. anyway, i lied about light-hearted chapters. but we're finally getting somewhere ( ᐛ )و!! 
> 
> this fic was supposed to be about 10k words.. but ( ◞･౪･) ca va~~

**Let us believe**

**The lies of people**

“Go catch me a goldfish, yeah?”

That was the last thing he heard his sister say before she vanished into the crowd with her new boyfriend. Kageyama stood there, rooted to the spot for a painstakingly long moment as people swept past him, each pair doing their own thing, knowing exactly what that thing was, while he contemplated his existence. Perhaps that was too heavy of a phrase. Looking lost, an observer might have noted.

The summer festival was hosted at night and filled with last minute propped up stands. Traditional lanterns lit up the wide roads and the easy breeze was packed with the sound of people’s happiness. Miwa had made her attempt to force him into a blue yukata, but that was one thing that wasn’t happening tonight.

He felt stranded. Technically, he was. Miwa was the one who knew her way around these annual summer festivals, the one who guided him around like he was some lost puppy. Kageyama sensed a familiar panic mounting in his chest, the one that strained in his throat when he lost sight of his parents when he was younger.

He was not _younger_ now, and he was beginning to draw strange looks. Kageyama grimaced and slipped the few bills his sister had given him into his pocket. In nowhere in his head did he know where to go, but he chose a random direction and stubbornly refused to ask for the location of the goldfish stand.

Goldfish stand. Did they even do those anymore? Hopefully not, because Kageyama didn’t think he could catch one with three tries.

This was one of those rare occurrences that he wished he had his teammates with him. It was strange to be in a mass of people and still have nobody to walk with. Sure, maybe if he was like Hinata, he could stroll up to a stranger and instantly become the best of friends, but he didn’t have annoyingly orange hair or magical social skills.

He felt ridiculous, wandering around aimlessly. The third years were busy with school year preparations, the second years scampering around with summer jobs, and the first years stuffing their heads with information from summer school. Except Tsukishima. Damn Tsukishima. Kageyama too, should be at home, busy with homework from his three failed classes, but he dragged here by his sister.

He was beginning to lose hope when he finally caught sight of the goldfish stand. Besides the stand owner, there were only a small group of girls crowding the left side. Kageyama swerved to the right and crouched down awkwardly.

“Welcome,” the store owner said with a smile.

Kageyama reached into his pocket and pulled out a few yen. “One play, please. Thank you.”

“Sure thing,” the man replied, exchanging the money with a bowl and net.

Kageyama took it with doubt. He pressed a finger against the net curiously and –

It broke through. His ears burned as the girls on the other side giggled. “Another one, please,” he mumbled.

This time, he handled the cheap tools with care. Kageyama turned his eyes toward the exposed tank and onto the goldfish. They swam in the small space, slipping past each other. It shouldn’t be too hard to scoop one out. Kageyama raised his arm and prepared to lung for whichever fish he could see.

“Are you an idiot?”

It was a miracle he didn’t stumble into the plastic container when he leapt up. “What the hell are you doing here for?” Kageyama gasped when his eyes fell on a face he had has been seeing far too often lately.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Oikawa said with a grin. Kageyama watched in disbelief as his senior blew a kiss in the direction of the girls. Their squeaks pained his head. “Nice seeing you again, Tobio-chan! You’re doing that scoopy thing completely wrong, by the way.”

Kageyama couldn’t find the right words to defend himself. Oikawa was wearing a yukata, something so out of the category of his normal that it was like looking at a complete stranger. The cloth was light blue, almost green under the soothing yellow lights and it looked perfect on him. Ridiculous.

“You look awful,” Kageyama said bluntly.

Oikawa’s wide grin flipped into an angry pout. “No, I look beautiful!” He stuck out his tongue. _Was he always this childish?_ “You just have a gross fashion sense! Besides,” he crossed his arms. “At least _I_ know how to scoop up a goldfish!”

Kageyama’s mouth almost fell open at the absurdity. “What does scooping goldfish have to do with fashion sense?”

“Forget it!” Oikawa huffed. “Let’s see you try catching one.”

Kageyama frowned and turned back to the fish tank and tried to ignore the way Oikawa was breathing down the back of his neck. There was an orange one blubbering in the corner and just thinking about pulling it out from the water and watching it splutter for air was making his hand sweat. He had never been good with animals and goldfish were no different.

With a swipe like he was doing a dig, Kageyama thrust the flimsy net forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the stand owner staring at him with concerned eyes. It was only when he heard Oikawa’s laughter that he remembered to look at the net. Empty and broken. He could have sworn it brushed against the goldfish at least.

“What was that?” Oikawa giggled, smacking him on his shoulder with amusement. “Does everything you do have to be volleyball-related?”

Kageyama blinked. This reminded him of the heartfelt moments he shared with his team. Oikawa was laughing with him, _genuinely_ laughing, like _he_ was Iwaizumi, and not some annoying underclassman. For as long as he could remember, Oikawa had never acted so familiar, never so affectionate and warm.

Happy. That was what it made him feel.

It was like he was finally given a Christmas present he had been asking for forever, he thought as he watched Oikawa couch down and buy a new net.

“Now, Tobio-chan,” he said, shifting closer and waving the feeble net before Kageyama’s eyes. Oikawa beams. So gently, so kindly. “Watch me.”

And, oh he watched. Kageyama stared at that pretty face, with its pink tongue poking out from between its soft lips in concentration. Oikawa’s eyes flickered to meet his for a second and his grin widened. “I meant the net, Tobio-chan! I know I’m super cool, but I’m trying to teach you something here.”

“A-ah,” Kageyama stuttered, ripping his gaze away. “Okay, yes.”

Oikawa was teaching him something. His heart skipped a beat.

“You gotta do it really carefully,” Oikawa murmured, leaning forward. “Imagine you’re petting a kitten’s head and – “ With a quick movement, he scooped up the lonely black goldfish in the corner and dropped it into the bowl in Kageyama’s hand. “—Remember to pull away when you remember that the kitten doesn’t like you very much!”

Oikawa set the net down and nudged Kageyama. “Carefully but swiftly,” he grinned and tapped the bowl. “You still gotta exchange that for a bag, you know.”

Kageyama wet his lips. “Yeah.”

A few moments later, he was holding his sister’s new goldfish. It swam in tiny circles in the clear plastic bag. And Oikawa was still with him.

“Why are you still here?” Kageyama asked. That came out wrong. He cleared his throat. “Don’t you have friends?” God, he was bad at this.

“Wow,” Oikawa turned his head away. “You’re feeling nice, aren’t you?”

“I – I didn’t mean it that way,” Kageyama rushed. He wasn’t apologizing. He just didn’t want to argue. Right. “I just, don’t know why you did that for me.”

Oikawa whipped his head around and grabbed him by his shoulders. Kageyama nearly dropped the goldfish in surprise. “Since I used my own money for that,” Oikawa said with a blinding smile. “Buy me a popsicle!”

Kageyama didn’t have time to reply before Oikawa grabbed his wrist and dragged him back into the crowd. He must be living in some sick dream of his middle school self. Someone bumped into his shoulder and he realized something.

Now, like everyone else, he had somebody with him. And they were touching him. Not punching or kicking – but holding onto his wrist carefully, like it meant something.

The thought took his breath away.

**We so want**

**To believe**

“Do you have anyone you need to meet up with?” Oikawa asked as Kageyama handed him the popsicle. With a tone full of exaggeration, he cheered, “Thank you! You’re the best.”

“It’s nothing,” He muttered. It was something though – a dent in his wallet. The yen that his sister had given him hadn’t covered the cold treat, and he ended up having to dig into his own pocket for the additional money. “I came here with my sister and her boyfriend. I won’t meet up with them until later.”

“That’s the longest thing you’ve said all night,” Oikawa said with a grin. “C’mon then, let’s go sit down! My legs are tired.”

Oikawa planted himself on the wooden bench beside the ice cream stand and patted the vacant spot beside him. “Here, Tobio-chan!”

Reluctantly, Kageyama took a seat beside his senior, careful to avoid letting their shoulders brush by accident. His efforts ended up being wasted when Oikawa threw an arm around his shoulder. Kageyama stiffened and resisted against his first instinct to dart away. But then the image of Oikawa and university and trains bombarded his thoughts and he let the gesture slide without an exasperated remark.

“Why are you still so skittish around me, Tobio-chan?” Oikawa huffed after a beat of silence.

Kageyama could smell the subdued sweet aroma of Oikawa’s strawberry popsicle with how small the gap between them was. “What are you talking about? I’m not nervous.”

“Yes, you are,” Oikawa’s arm snaked away from its spot on his shoulder and poked his rigid arm. “If this isn’t nervous, I don’t know what is. Your sulky face is even sulkier than usual. And that’s very sulky.”

“You’re imagining things,” Kageyama responded. Without the obstacle of his senior’s limb, his neck felt strangely cold. He willed his attention away from the bite of the chill and marvelled at how summer nights could be so breezy.

Oikawa sighed, long and drawn out. Like he was genuinely disheartened. “I just wish you’d trust me.”

When Kageyama's silence lingered, he continued. “Is it because of middle school? Well, I can – “

“Why are you acting so friendly?”

“What do you mean?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kageyama studied Oikawa's smile. Sincere or simply a façade? Damn, this was why he preferred to do what little socialization he did with frank, one-track-minded people like Hinata. The tension of their limited time together combined with his growing unease made his legs itch with the urge to run. He gripped the felt rope that tied the plastic wrap around the goldfish’s sphere of water tighter. “It’s just, I – people don’t forget their hatred so easily! We stopped you from going to nationals, why the hell are you so friendly?”

Oikawa head dipped down and he stared at his feet. Anxiety and guilt bubbled up in Kageyama's throat, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to apologize. _God, don’t look so sad, I hate it._ Instead, he rushed out, “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that – “

“That’s development.”

“What?”

“You used to say “I” all the time, remember?” Oikawa lifted his chin and grinned. So real and warm that Kageyama wondered why the sun didn’t shine at night just for that smile. “I’m glad you found your people, Tobio-chan!”

_Ah._

_I shouldn’t have doubted him._

In a fraction of a second, Oikawa’s grin grew mischievous. “Now, tell Oikawa-senpai why you’re so nervous.”

Kageyama’s fingers twitched around the felt rope. “No reason.”

“Hmm, then shall I guess? Let’s play that!” Oikawa tapped his chin with mock pensiveness. His eyes circled around the space they occupied before landing back on Kageyama. He leaned in with his sly smile. “My first guess is that… it’s because I’m going out of town… Right?”

This time, Kageyama did leap away, so startled that Oikawa had to grab onto the cloth of his shirt with barely contained laughter to keep him close. His heart was jumping far too quickly in his chest. “Fuck, no! I’m not! It’s not that!”

Oikawa was giggling so hard he had trouble clinging to Kageyama’s shirt. When Kageyama slipped away, he whined between bouts of his laughter, “It’s okay, Tobio-chan! I’ll miss you too! Come back, Tobio-chan!”

With slow, deliberate steps, Kageyama edged closer to the bench. “Stop saying stupid things, Oikawa-san.”

“Oh, I know!” Oikawa chirped, eyes brightening with a new idea. “How about we exchange phone numbers? That way, we’ll always be in contact!”

His heart leapt into his throat and he choked out, “No way, that’s an awful idea – hey!”

Oikawa was already slipping his hand into Kageyama’s pocket and pulling out his phone. He gaped at his senior. “How the hell did you even know where that was?”

“Oh, you’re so predictable,” Oikawa said with a roll of his eyes. “You’ve always kept your phone in the same pocket, Tobio-chan. Let this be a lesson to teach you to be more careful with where you put your heart. Now tell me your password!”

As he made a noise of annoyance and disbelief, he snatched away his phone and jabbed in the passcode. Kageyama handed the device back to Oikawa and watched with narrowed eyes as he hummed and entered his number. When he was finished, he looked up at Kageyama and blew a kiss.

It was invisible and untouchable, but it made his eyes burn.

 _A sunburn_ , he mused as Oikawa grinned and pulled him back onto the streets of the festival. _I’m going to get hurt if I stay in the sun for too long_.

**Like they care**

**and would spend**

“That was fun, huh?” Miwa sang, letting out a wide yawn. “Did you manage to have fun without your amazing older sister?”

Truth be told, Kageyama did have fun. _Oikawa_ was fun. His persistent insistence on the validity of alien life was ridiculous and the extravagant soul that that body held was annoying, but it was what Kageyama had always wanted. Hours alone with Oikawa and being in the spotlight of his attention exceeded the imagination of his middle school self. He wondered if this was what Iwaizumi was able to experience everyday, for the better part of his life, the millions of instances spent with Oikawa Tooru.

But admitting that would be like admitting that Tsukishima was a good person or Hinata played the role as Kageyama’s best friend. So he made a noise in the back of his throat and said the usual, “It was fine.”

Miwa let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. “You’re bad at lying and literally everything that has to do with keeping a poker-face, has anyone ever told you that?” _Oikawa has, actually_. “Don’t think I didn’t see you with that cute guy earlier.”

Kageyama blinked at her. “You have a boyfriend?”

She let out a second sigh. “Let me teach you something now, dear brother,” she said, grabbing his shoulders and looking him in the eye with intensity only his sister could muster. “You know when you’re in a bad relationship when your partner gets angry over you commenting about people’s level of hotness, do you understand?”

“Is that not… cheating?”

Miwa momentarily let go of his shoulders to pinch the spot on the bridge of her nose. “There is a difference between cheating and checking someone out. You look at someone, be mesmerized by their face or whatever, and then you let it go.”

Kageyama stared. “What?”

“Your simpleton brain only holds volleyball knowledge,” his sister grumbled. She took a deep breath and told him, “When you are in a good relationship and you find a hottie on the streets, you look once. Glance away and look again.”

“Your point is?”

She patted his shoulder. “You look twice, admire their beauty, and then continue walking.”

Before Kageyama could reply, Miwa perked up again. “By the way! Did you catch my goldfish?”

“Ah, yes,” Kageyama held up the plastic wrap containing the fish. To his relief, it was safe and swimming contently in its sphere of water. “Oikawa caught it.”

Miwa gave him a strange look, taking the wrap and tilting her head at the black goldfish. “Oikawa? Wasn’t that the name of that senpai you used to go on and on about?”

Kageyama paused. “Yeah.”

His sister hummed. “I’m glad you’re over your little crush, but why a black goldfish?”

“What do you mean?”

Miwa raised an eyebrow. “Black goldfishes represent misfortune and unhappiness. Didn’t you know?”

**Their life**

**By our side**

Kageyama passed his summer with the other first years, even Tsukishima, who grumbled throughout every trip they charged through. The time with he shared with them almost made him forget about Oikawa’s phone number sitting in his pocket. Almost. _Why give me your number_ , he wanted to ask Oikawa, _when you don’t bother to do anything?_ Knowing his senior and his charismatic antics, the number was likely given as a polite gesture. Thinking about it made his heart twist.

Today, there was a sale in the book shop down the street. It was also the last week of summer break, as well as a Tuesday and the day Oikawa’s train to Tokyo departed. A pull in his chest made him want to give Oikawa a call, but his pride and dignity was at stake, so he dragged Hinata on a shopping trip for manga instead.

“You look pissed,” Hinata remarked as the chill of the air-conditioned air swept against their overheated faces. He let out a content sigh and basked the cold breeze for a moment.

“Try on Tsukishima’s glasses.”

Hinata ignored his snarky comment and surveyed him with narrowed eyes. “Like, you usually look like you have a pole stuck up your ass,” he said, fingers stroking his chin thoughtfully, “but today, you look like you owe the world your organs.”

Kageyama scrunched up his nose. “You and your thoughts can go eat shit.”

Hinata brightened. “That’s it! You look like you’re eating shit today!”

“What the hell – “

“ _Anyway_ ,” Hinata said before Kageyama could finish his sentence. Was it Kageyama who talked slow or other people had a habit of cutting him off? “Why do you look like you’re eating shit?”

“Say that one more time.”

“Why do you look like you’re eating – “

“I didn’t mean it literally!” Kageyama yelled, fisting his hair hard enough for his scalp to burn. A hiss ripped through the bookstore and it took a second for him to figure out where it was coming from. The old lady behind the counter was shooting him death glares and Kageyama winced. “I didn’t mean it literally,” he huffed again, quieter this time.

“Tell me why you look like you’re eating sh – “

“No reason!” Kageyama snapped in a whisper.

Hinata gave him another thoughtful look. “Is it because the Great King is leaving?”

The manga Kageyama was pulling from the shelf slipped from his hands and crashed to the floor in a thump far too loud for his liking. A hiss came from the cash register and Kageyama muttered variants of apologies under his breath.

“So I’m right!” Hinata beamed. “Yeah, so, I looked through your phone last week and you have the Great Oikawa’s phone number? If you’re so bummed out, why don’t we just go visit him? And by the way, can you give me his number – “

“You looked through my phone?”

“Yup, sorry about that,” Hinata said, not looking in the least bit sorry. “Tsukki figured out your password in like, two seconds; maybe this is a sign you should change it? Oh. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

Alarm made Kageyama cold. “Did Tsukishima also tell you about the… Oikawa-san thing?”

Hinata hummed.

“We’re not visiting him.”

“Sure,” Hinata said with a frown. “You sure are anxious about it.”

Now that Hinata had brought up the ever-present subject of Oikawa, a cage of butterflies was released into his stomach and Kageyama was ready to cough up their fluttering wings. But Oikawa certainly wouldn’t feel the same if _he_ was the one leaving for University.

So Kageyama scowled and said, “I’m not anxious about it.”

And he wished upon all the shooting stars he’d never seen for his phone to sing with the special ringtone he’d set only for Oikawa.

**We want so badly**

**To believe**

Oikawa was not one for saying goodbyes. He held onto things as if they were his lifeline whatever his awful memory could recall. Grudges shoved onto people who insulted him that one time in third grade, girlfriends who’d always leave, matches he couldn’t win, memories that he just couldn’t toss no matter how hard he tired. He was possessive, clinging, manipulative—anything to get his way. Ushijima could buy him a hundred loafs of milk bread and Oikawa would eat them all while sending him bitter glares.

Which was why he had an urge to grab onto Iwaizumi’s shirt and never let go. His fingers could freeze off in the depths of winter and he’d still cling to his favorite person in the world.

Which was also why he had an urge to call Kageyama and demand they meet and play volleyball again and again until both their hands bled.

 _Hurry up and graduate,_ he wanted to tell Kageyama _, so I can kick your ass and remember that moment forever._

But he took a deep breath like Iwaizumi had told him to when he was so terrified that he couldn’t draw in air. Tokyo was in Japan. It wasn’t as if he was going to the international space station and partaking in a life-long voyage to find aliens on faraway planets. He would be visiting several times a year and Kageyama would always be there, with his disgusting blue eyes and forgiving heart.

This was what he was thinking about, as he boarded his train and settled in a seat in the back, away from the action, for once in his life.

Kageyama, in the end, was a _good_ person. Forgiving and sensitive and genuine. If Oikawa said the words he wanted to hear from him— _I acknowledge you, I’ll stay by your side, I respect you_ —it took less than five casual meetings to gain his trust. Or at least, some of it. Getting people to like you was easy. Give them a shot of kindness and attention and they chase after you. Combined with the cherry topping of too much time to think about you, and they’ve started liking you before they’ve even noticed it themselves.

It didn’t matter anyway. Their meeting in the festival was their last one and he’d blocked Kageyama’s number the moment he got home. He would focus on waking up every morning and smiling.

The silence in the train was overbearing. Filled with so many people but deafeningly quiet. If this was what the city was like, his bad days were going to stretch longer and longer until it took up his life. It would be a miracle if he could pull himself out of bed tomorrow.

Oikawa closed his eyes and clenched his fists in his pockets. _God, I miss Iwa-chan already._

Oikawa was possessive, clinging, manipulative—but also a liar.

**That they _see_ us**

**That they _notice_ us**

Kageyama and Hinata had been in the middle of what seemed like their millionth argument when his phone rang. Hinata had chucked a bucket full of water on Kageyama’s head that morning, and they’d both landed themselves a detention of cleaning the English classroom. The phrase Hinata had been yelled cut to an abrupt stop and he stared at Kageyama with a confusion that mirrored Kageyama’s own. “Is that your phone?”

“No?” Kageyama said, hands jumping to his pockets anyway. “Pick up your goddamn phone.”

Hinata shook his head. “No, no, I have that beep boop bop ringtone. It’s yours.”

“No, it’s not.”

The second the words left his mouth, Kageyama’s fingers bumped against a vibration. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and ignored Hinata’s smug look. “Shut up for a minute.”

Hinata muttered something under his breath, threw his hands up into the air, and pointed to the exit of the classroom.

Kageyama smacked his hand away and stormed through the doors. It wasn’t until he was down the hall that he bothered to glance down at the caller.

 **♥️** Oikawa-senpai **♥️**

His phone clattered against the floor and Kageyama leapt away from it as if it held a terminal disease. Not a moment later, he was swiping the device off back into his hand. All the reasons of why he should ignore the call swept like a tornado in his mind. But if the pounding of his heart and the flush of his face was anything to battle against, Kageyama jabbed the green button and stared at the dirty ceiling above his head like it was the second most fascinating thing in his solar system.

“Tobio-chan!” Oikawa’s voice was twisted through the phone but there was no mistaking it. _Oikawa_. “I’m in town!”

Kageyama didn’t say anything. Through the rush of blood in his ears, he heard Oikawa laugh. A soft one that barely registered in his head. The thing about laughing—when he did it, it sounded strange. Forced. As if Kageyama had swallowed a thousand cans of liquid anger. But when Oikawa did it, it was like a flood of real happiness, a thing that sounded as if it’d been trapped by a dam, just waiting to be released. Oikawa’s happiness sounded like something you could hold dearly in your hands.

“So excited you can’t even talk?” Kageyama could imagine his smile, and it shone as bright as a star in the night sky. “Let’s meet up! Spend New Year’s with me. It’ll be like you’ve been with me for an entire year rather than one second, Tobio-chan!”

Kageyama blinked a few times. _What?_ Oikawa wanted to meet up for New Years, when New Years was what you were supposed to spend with the people closest in your life? He heard wrong. “What?” he managed to say.

“Meet me the shrine on the hill beside Karasuno three hours before the next year. See you then, Tobio-chan!”

The call ended and the hall Kageyama stood in fell back into silence. Hinata burst through the classroom doors the moment Kageyama slipped his phone back into his pocket. He must have betrayed his feelings, because the moment Hinata caught sight of his face, he leaped into the air.

“Why do you look like that?” Hinata shouted, pressing his back against the door with real fear in his eyes. “That’s just gross, stop that!”

As Hinata made retching noises, Kageyama’s mind raced through hundreds of reasons why he did not like Oikawa.

_Oikawa is immature._

_Oikawa mocks me._

“I didn’t know your face could do that,” Hinata finally gasped.

_Oikawa is passive aggressive._

Kageyama stared at him. “What?”

“The quirking thing, with the cheeks and stuff,” Hinata gestured with astonishment at his own face.

_Oikawa is practically evil._

“What?”

_Oikawa—_

“Who taught you how to… smile?”

_—wants to see me._

And that trumped all.

**That our vision**

**Is blurred**

**By the prospect of hope**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the poem is by a super cool online friend!! if you see this, heyooo, i love you~~
> 
> no beta OR EDITING- we die like real men. kidding~~ (at least for the editing part-i have no beta ・゜・(ノД`)) i'm just awful at catching errors. 
> 
> anyway! talk to me on [tumblr](https://aquartertohalf.tumblr.com/)! or just come and scowl at my drawings! i vanished from social media for a few days, but i'm back!!


	5. perfect moments frozen in time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG THANKS TO MY AMAZING BETA FOR THIS CHAPTER, [MissKiraBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKiraBlue)!!! she made suggestions that helped my delivery SO DAMN MUCH. please, pleeeease go check her out, her stories are one of the best out there.
> 
> oml, i'm writing a story, AN ORIGINAL AHHHHH and that's why i'm so slow *this* time. excuses, excuses (´ж｀;). anyway, we are.. 2/5 of the way through! (if all goes according to plan, AHAHA.)

**Sometimes, I like to pretend that I live within a perfect world,**

**Where I’m more than a shadow**

“I’m Oikawa Tooru, setter, pleased to meet you!”

His new teammates surveyed him with harsh eyes. Their expressions were so similar to Ushijima’s intimidating, detached one that he had to remind himself that these students were made of flesh, bone, and blood, too. 

Human, with vulnerabilities and weaknesses, just like him.

Shivers crawled along Oikawa’s arms, all the way to the flats of his shoulders, and the dulled pounding in his head heightened. In the span of five seconds, he made a judgement on them all—

 _I hate every single one of you_.

Hate, the gentle despise that lingered at the edge of his mind whenever a university teammate would stray into his vision. Completely different from his anger towards Kageyama and Ushijima, but so utterly akin. It took another heartbeat for him to pin down exactly why it unnerved him. It was a dislike that wasn’t strong enough to spark a real feeling in his chest, but not weak enough to leave him _alone_.

Finally, one of them spoke up. “We know.”

Oikawa forced his face into a mischievous grin. “And the people back home said I wasn’t popular.”

A boy with light hair squinted. “Right.” This was the one-word signal they all took as dismissal and returned to their homework around the club table.

And Oikawa felt something inside him break. It would’ve been better if they despised him back. It would’ve been easier to deal with, and he could right their feelings within the short span of a month. But this? The disconnection and uncoordinated movement of the team—the _team_ —was something he wanted to look away from and never touch.

He tried to steel himself back into the naturally charismatic personality which he flowed so easily into, but the numb pain in his temple told him another time. _Another time_. He would get this team together and back on its feet. They couldn’t function without trusting each other. Just—not today. His body ached from his train ride, and his fingers were twitching erratically at his sides. As if he was trying to reach for something. To hold onto or to push it away? He didn’t know.

He was Oikawa Tooru. Cheerful, friendly, practically a genius at making allies (but not quite), and an excellent volleyball player. He came to this university on a sports scholarship for a reason, and he wasn’t about to let a couple of unfeeling students shove him off his feet.

Just. Not today.

**Of myself;**

**Vibrant, instead of whatever**

**This is.**

Not this week, or this month either. Or the next, or the ones following that. Weeks flew by Oikawa’s eyes like a stray butterfly fluttering away from a forest fire, without him even realizing until their first match against a rival college. The only good thing that he’d been blessed with was the position he trained so hard for. But the greater force hated him, and his knee barred him from playing the second half of the game. They won, of course, but the victory didn’t spark the same _something_ in his chest that all victories used to.

When the flare of happiness didn’t immediately leap after the last point had been scored, a disorienting panic rose in his throat. He felt like a drug addict during withdrawal.

It was fine. He’d set the winning point next time and Oikawa would feel _alive_ again.

Oikawa lay on his bed that night, the small one that the dorms provided, and stared out the window. The restlessness of not doing enough combined with the lack of motivation to _get up_ _and move_ confused him. The fog that hung like a blanket over his brain finally snapped to extinction when his phone buzzed.

 **Iwa-chan (ʃƪ ˘ ³˘):** How’d the match go?

He waited for the flutter of happiness to spin his consciousness in circles like it always did when he received a message from Iwaizumi, but seconds passed—minutes–. 

And it never came. 

Oikawa blinked a little quickly and a little too hard.

 **Me:** we won!!!! ( ƅ°ਉ°)ƅ

 **Iwa-chan (ʃƪ ˘ ³˘):** Good

 **Iwa-chan (ʃƪ ˘ ³˘):** Take a rest. You better not be overworking yourself again

 **Me:** yeah, ya, youre not my mom, iwa-channnn

 **Iwa-chan (ʃƪ ˘ ³˘):** Shut up

 **Me:** ヾ（〃＾∇＾）ﾉ♪

He was lying in bed, limbs exhausted even though the only thing he accomplished today was dragging himself out of bed and attending the four classes he had on Tuesdays. But what Iwaizumi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Oikawa’s gaze strayed towards the window for what seemed to be the millionth time today.

The first snowfall of the year landed on the university’s campus grounds a month prior, but the edges of Oikawa’s eyes still burned at the blinding white. If it was up to Oikawa, he’d be in a pitch-black room, one where he couldn’t even tell if his eyes were wide open or not. He’d curl up in the corner and slow the time that moved too quickly without his permission. If it was up to Oikawa, he would rewind time all the way to the moments in his life before he laid hands on a volley—

Oikawa leaped from his bed, skin tingling as if the hairs on his body had been lit on fire. His hearing dimmed for a moment and his vision swam. It was just because he sat up too quickly, nothing more, nothing less. (He was an athlete, disorienting moments like this shouldn’t happen to him of all people.) Of all things, volleyball was not something he would regret. He didn’t want to think about this. Not now, not ever. He wanted a distraction, something, anything, to land him back on his feet. The erratic twitching of his hands made it hard to pick up his phone.

Trembling—it was _trembling_.

With shaky fingers, he found Iwaizumi’s contact profile. The second before he pressed call, he hesitated. _It’s not really a big deal. I just need a distraction. Iwa-chan will be freaked out for nothing_.

Oikawa skipped through his phone’s long list of distant people he vaguely remembered. Near the end, one read _Tobio-chan_ _凸_ _(_ _⊙_ _▂⊙✖_ _)._ _I hate you like the world hates puppy-kickers, Tobio-chan,_ Oikawa thought automatically, before he could even process the name. Before he could regret it, Oikawa jabbed at the name and waited for Kageyama’s grumpy voice.

When several rings passed and nobody picked up, a flurry of annoyance swam in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time that sent up a second swirl of joy.

Oikawa grinned, unable to help himself, and wondered dimly _, am I a masochist?_

He wanted to see Kageyama. 

He would be going home for the winter holidays anyway. It was very likely that Kageyama would allow himself to be dragged anywhere, as long as Oikawa said the right words. New Year’s Eve was two weeks from now and—and he could go to the shrine. Get his fortune told. Maybe, _just maybe_ , next year would be his fresh start. Even in his head, he knew he was being ridiculous, lives don’t alter with the change of a new year, but Oikawa was ready to do anything, even brush his hands with the death, if it meant he could go back to being himself.

 _Himself_.

When Kageyama finally, _finally_ accepted his call, Oikawa’s dark, candle-lit world felt a little brighter.

Even if it was just a momentary, artificial light that would leave him blind when he turned away.

Kageyama made him _feel_.

Like a drug. Anger, jealousy, and a mix of negative emotions he’d never care to identify. But what emotion arose didn’t matter in the least, because when he was surrounded by Kageyama’s low voice and sulky demeanor, Oikawa could feel like himself again; a hurricane of opinions and feeling and judgement and hope and happiness. The world that had faded to dull shades of gray gave away to color again when Kageyama spoke.

And what was the point of living if his vision was tainted with shadows and each breath felt like a struggle?

What was the point of living if he couldn’t feel _alive_?

**And a place where I can close my eyes without the fear**

**of the darkness behind my eyelids.**

**Somewhere where you are nothing but a**

“Tobio-chan, over here!”

Kageyama spun around at the sound of Oikawa’s voice, filled with so much excitement and happiness that it was contagious. Or perhaps his heart was already pounding before they spotted each other. After a long inhale of the cold air and a desperate wish for his social skills to miraculously appear, Kageyama awkwardly trudged to the corner Oikawa stood, bouncing on the heels of his feet with exhilaration.

“Why are you so jumpy?” Kageyama grumbled as a greeting. His own heart was in the dangerous process of leaping into his throat, but he struggled for a neutral expression for the sake of his pride.

The sky was dark, brightened only by the traditional lanterns that were hung atop the hill. He’d never really noticed how quickly night fell before this moment, staring at Oikawa, with the soft orange light hitting his skin and turning it a flushed

Oikawa huffed. “At least act like you’re happy to see me!” When Kageyama shot him a displeased look, Oikawa crossed his arms over his chest. “Whatever, Tobio-chan. I’m happy to see your grumpy face.” His smile perked back up onto his face innocently. “Even if that face is ugly as the monster under my bed!”

“My face is nothing compared to _your_ disgusting one!”

“Oh, I know you secretly think I’m hot,” Oikawa said as he blew a kiss and flashed a cheeky wink. “It’s written all over your ugly face.”

“Why the hell would I—”

Oikawa gasped and leaped past Kageyama before he could finish his sentence. “Fortunes! Let’s go get our fortunes!” Without waiting for his answer, Oikawa seized his hand and dragged him towards the lantern-lit booth. Kageyama ripped himself away and followed his senior, all the while his skin burned where Oikawa had touched him.

“God knows I need some luck next year,” Oikawa was murmuring when Kageyama stopped at his side. There were several boxes made of a hard material Kageyama couldn’t identify, each with a slot to reach in and grab a sheet of paper. Lines had formed in front of the boxes, and the last thing he wanted to do was spend five minutes waiting for a scam.

But when he glanced at Oikawa, who looked so enthusiastic and hopeful that the air around him seemed to shimmer. Kageyama swallowed down his impatience and got in line behind him.

Oikawa was eerily quiet as the seconds ticked by. Girls were talking in excited voices in front and behind them, and Kageyama had never wanted to be in a quiet room more than he did then. Kageyama shot a second look at Oikawa, who had his eyes on a spot far in the distance. The orange light of the lanterns caught in his brown irises and for the hundredth time that day, he wished he had the power to read minds.

When Oikawa reached into the box and yanked out a slip of paper, he shoved it into his pocket without taking a look. Oikawa grinned with a small shrug when Kageyama narrowed his eyes at him. “Good luck, Tobio-chan,” he sang as he walked off.

With irrational butterflies fluttering in his stomach, he handed a few hundred yen to the owner and pulled out his own fortune slip. Unlike Oikawa, he looked at it right away.

_大吉._

The best degree of luck possible from a fortune slip.

**Forgotten, faded memory.**

**In this perfect world, you are**

**one thing less that I need.**

“So?” Oikawa leaned forward expectantly. “What’d you get?”

“Great fortune.”

Oikawa groaned and dragged his fingers down his cheeks. “This is so unfair,” he grumbled with a childish pout.

“It was as fair as it could get,” Kageyama corrected. “It was random.”

“You’re only saying that because you got a really good one!”

Kageyama frowned. “What did you get?”

Oikawa huffed and held up his slip. 大凶. “Great bad luck, you stupid ape.”

“That’s just too bad then,” Kageyama said with a smug smirk.

“You’re so mean, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa mumbled. Oikawa’s energy seemed to melt into a puddle of sadness in front of him. Invisible hands pressed down on his shoulders and they drooped, like a delicate piece of paper under a shower of rain. Kageyama didn’t know whether he should take a step forward or a thousand steps back. The picture of a crestfallen Oikawa didn’t sit well in his head.

He wanted to say something that would shove the cheer back into Oikawa’s body, but the only he managed was a flat, disinterested, “It’s just paper.”

“It’s more than just paper!” Oikawa whined. “It’s the whole of next year! Iwa-chan won’t be friends with me anymore and I’m going to break my legs in half and I’m going to develop a face as ugly as yours!”

Kageyama blinked, the insult almost slipping past him. “Fuck off, you—”

Oikawa rolled the fortune into a paper string and wrapped it around his finger, so tightly blood and _oxygen_ were cut off from the head. “I’m going to die,” he huffed, before shooting a look of _something_ at Kageyama, “though maybe that’s better than getting your mad, sulky face, Tobio-chan.”

Kageyama didn’t reply, just stared at Oikawa’s finger. It was turning red. “Your finger is going to fall off.”

“Dead in the mind already,” Oikawa huffed, like he was talking about the weatherman being wrong. He finally unwrapping the fortune and sighed. “It’s just waiting for the body to rot now.”

Kageyama swallowed. “Then—” he hesitated, “here.” He grabbed Oikawa’s bad fortune from his fingertips and thrust his own good one in his seniors’ hands. “Stop whining. It pisses me off.”

Oikawa blinked hard several times, saying nothing and gazing at Kageyama’s slip of paper. Almost immediately, he began to regret his decision. Was exchanging fortunes allowed? What if what he did was considered extremely inappropriate? In his chest, his heart pounding behind his rib cage and for a moment, Kageyama prayed to whatever god out there to rewind the last few seconds.

His silent wishes came to an abrupt stop when a smile spread on Oikawa’s face. Oikawa peeked at him through his bangs and in an instant, his regrets disappeared.

“Tobio-chan, that was so thoughtful!” Oikawa sang. He hitched an arm around Kageyama’s shoulder and shot him a sickly-sweet smile. “Wanna take a seat? You’ve been using your head a bit too much lately; you shouldn’t push yourself. Feeling a little light-headed?”

“I can’t stand you, you ass,” Kageyama scowled. Oikawa might have had a pretty smile, but _god_ , he was irritating.

Oikawa batted his eyelashes. “I know you secretly love me.”

His heart stopped. No, it didn’t stop, blood was just rushing so fast in his ears that it drowned out all the other sounds he should have been able to pick up. Kageyama gaped at Oikawa in horror as he felt his face warm. Hearing those words was the equivalent to getting hit by an oncoming train—sudden, terrifying, and deadly accurate. 

_Not accurate_ , a voice in his head hissed in frustration. _Get your priorities right_. 

Oikawa watched him with mild amusement as he managed to choke out a “W-what?”

Oikawa’s lips pressed together in a thin line and his shoulders shook. The flush on his face was, without a doubt, there now, and his chin trembled. _Crying? How the hell do you deal with—_

He didn’t need to worry about that because Oikawa let out a choked little noise. It was followed promptly by a laugh that dissolved in giggles. “I was joking,” Oikawa said with a snort after trying to stop the laughter several times. Through sly, narrowed eyes, he gave Kageyama another one of his smug smiles. “Unless…”

Kageyama’s face felt like the top of a stove. He wanted to punch Oikawa. A nice, hard smack, right on the bridge of his nose. Before he could sort out his spinning thoughts, Oikawa glanced at the dark sky and grabbed his hand. A feeling that was uncanny to hope leapt in his throat and he stared at their hands, locked together.

“C’mon,” Oikawa grinned and tugged him towards a small hill. “Let’s go pay our respects and then spend a whole year spying for extraterrestrial aircrafts!”

Despite the stinging in his lungs, Kageyama’s lip tugged up at Oikawa’s shining eyes. “Aliens,” he said with a flat tone.

“Aliens!” Oikawa echoed breathlessly, wearing a smile bright enough to illuminate the entire universe.

**Through the hazy, faint film over my eyes,**

**This world is where I would**

**Die to live in.**

Kageyama did not, in the least, believe in gods. 

But he was here. With Oikawa. They had both spent a full two minutes running through the routine for proper prayers, and when Kageyama had dipped into a half-hearted bow, Oikawa had poked at his arm until he frowned and lowered himself in the correct, traditional way.

Oikawa exhaled and clapped his hands together twice before eyeing Kageyama to do the same. He wanted to tell Oikawa that no matter how much yen he tossed into the box or how low he bowed, whatever deities out there wouldn’t grant him an easy life. Oikawa nudged him and Kageyama clapped.

“No peeking while we pray,” Oikawa told him sternly. “Promise.”

“Fine.”

Oikawa hummed with a small smile and brought his hands together. The tips of his fingers grazed his forehead and Kageyama copied his pose. Oikawa closed his eyes and he followed. He didn’t see why Oikawa bothered with this. He was certain that back in middle school, his senior had often complained to Iwaizumi about “stupid Japanese traditions”. What changed and brought on this sudden desperation for spiritual guidance?

Oikawa told him not to watch, but the prolonged silence was stabbing at his impatience. He was certain Oikawa was bullshitting his prayers. Kageyama opened his eyes and stared at Oikawa in the corner of his eye.

For once, his face was serious, lips far from its usual cheerful smile. In fact, Oikawa’s expression was scrunched together in such…

What the hell was it? Kageyama cursed his lack of emotional awareness and squinted at the wary look Oikawa wore. His eyebrows were pulled tight and the rims of his eyes appeared red in the warm light of the shrine.

Sadness, Kageyama, hands falling limp to his sides in disbelief. 

_What are you thinking, Oikawa?_

And then, for the first time in his life, Kageyama prayed.. Kageyama did not, in the least, believe in gods. Yet, here he stood, beside Oikawa in the center of the shrine.

And he prayed.

_Make him smile again._

As an afterthought, he bit his lip and pressed his palms tight together again.

 _Please_.

**And when I wake from my beautiful dreams**

**To this ugly, agonizing universe that I call**

It was the first year since the literal year they had been born that Iwaizumi and Oikawa didn’t spend New Year’s Eve together. 

Their parents had always been the best of friends, sharing possible ideas for their children’s names before they were even born. Iwaizumi’s mother told him that while he and Oikawa played in the sandbox, they imagined a future where both Iwaizumi and Oikawa existed together, with no doubts in their minds.

Every year, they would alternate between having dinners with the other’s family. This was their first year alone, and Iwaizumi had thought it was a perfect chance to meet up with Hanamaki and Mattsun, but _clearly_ , Oikawa had other plans in mind.

Iwaizumi believed it was fair to say it didn’t please him when he found out that Oikawa had run off with Kageyama of all people. The only person more surprising to him would be Ushijima, and he’d always thought Oikawa would rather plunge his hair in dirty water than even entertain the notion of willingly spending time with the two (he used to think this possibility was less likely than Oikawa never having fangirls, but now that he had witnessed this strange skeptical with Kageyama, he started doubting this prediction).

“So, how’s our favourite ex-captain?” Mattsun asked, glancing at the doorway of Iwaizumi’s dorm, looking as if he expected Oikawa to burst in, in his usual, theatrical fashion.

Hanamaki followed his gaze. “You know, I expected to walk into you and Oikawa ripping open each other’s heads off like the gorillas you are. But no. What a nice change.”

Iwaizumi sighed. “Shittykawa’s off with Kageyama.”

Hanamaki and Mattsun blinked hard once in unison.

“Kageyama,” Hanamaki said slowly, “as in that one junior that Oikawa was glaring at during our entire match with Karasuno?”

“Kageyama,” Mattsun echoed, just as slow, “as in the Kageyama that was on six of Oikawa’s hit lists?”

“Kageyama,” Hanamaki repeated, “as in the Tobio that Oikawa said, and I quote, “would rather let Iwa-chan cut my hair than talk to”?”

“Kageyama—”

Iwaizumi slapped his hand against the table, hard enough that the textbooks in the center shook. “Yes!” He shouted, irritation crawling under his skin like an unwanted disease. “God, where the fuck is Oikawa when I need someone to hit?”

Mattsun cleared his throat. “Eloping with Kageyama, apparently.”

“Unfortunately, I suspect we’ll be seeing him very soon,” Hanamki said with a mournful shake of his head. “With a murder case on his hands.”

“And Kageyama’s blood,” Mattsun added helpfully.

“You’re forgetting we don’t have money for a lawyer.”

“For murder or divorce?”

“How long would their marriage last? I’m betting a month. Maybe two.”

“I don’t have that much hope in Oikawa. Ten days, and even then I’m generous–”

“You guys are such pains in the ass,” Iwaizumi groaned, burying his face in his hands. “It’s not that big of a deal. We won’t be seeing him this break.”

“Why Kageyama, though?” Mattsun asked, musing thoughtfully.

Iwaizumi had no clue. It seemed as if every day, he had less and less of a clue of what ran through Oikawa’s mind. 

It bothered him. Being away from Oikawa’s side caused migraines, and he constantly wondered if his best friend was still alive without Iwaizumi there to fix up all the growing fractures in his steadily cracking armour.

Even when he wasn’t in Iwaizumi’s everyday life, he was still a pain in the ass. _Goddammit, Oikawa._

In truth, Oikawa hadn’t even bothered to tell him about his new plans for tonight. Iwaizumi had spent the past week trying to guess past Oikawa’s password-protected phone. It used to be Iwaizumi’s birthday, in the same way Iwaizumi’s password was Oikawa’s but he’d changed it over the months in university. As of Tuesday, it was the numbers beneath the barcode of the last milk bread he ate.

Stupidly ridiculous.

While he had planned his stupid break-in into his best friend’s phone, it occurred to Iwaizumi that this counted as an invasion of privacy. But a new password was definitely a cause for suspicion. He’d expected countless new numbers and followings logged into the phone, but there had only been one he didn’t recognize. Named _Coach Mekai_.

How did Oikawa communicate with his shiny, brand-new friends? Of course, unless—

Which was also stupidly ridiculous. Not only that, but a friend-less Oikawa was also an inconceivable notion. It wasn’t until his third scrolling through Oikawa’s contacts that he spotted the _Tobio-chan_ _凸_ _(_ _⊙_ _▂⊙✖)._

_God._

“It’s probably a love-hate kind of thing,” Hanamaki murmured, rubbing his chin in mock deep thought. “I’ve always seen Oikawa as a sadist. Maybe he has a thing for pain and anger?”

Mattsun raised an eyebrow and glanced at Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi just scowled, silently praying that whatever idiotic idea Oikawa got stuck in his head this time had at least the slightest bit of sense to it.

**Reality,**

**There is a pain deep in my chest**

Instead of joining the masses at the base of the shrine, Oikawa led him to the back of the building, where stone steps continued upward, to the very top of the hill. It was winter and Kageyama’s fingertips were cold in his deep coat pockets. Oikawa wore a light jacket and didn’t seem to notice the frigid air, even though each warm breath he exhaled left puffs of clouds in the cold.

Oikawa’s conversation topics consisted of random things that seemed too ordinary to come from his mouth—conspiracy theories of aliens, movies, New Year’s resolutions. An easy smile breezed his face as if he had been wearing it all his life. As if just a few minutes ago, he didn’t look like he was on the verge of tears.

Kageyama listened, far more attentively than he suspected Iwaizumi or anybody else listened to Oikawa. 

He stayed silent, allowing his senior to fill in the gaps in the conversation for both of them. Oikawa talked to him, not Iwaizumi, not ridiculing him for whatever came to mind, and that was enough.

Now that he was standing in the spotlight of his senior’s attention, he didn’t want to hand it over to anyone else.

Snowflakes had begun to fall around them, and a light breeze had picked up by the time reached their destination. Oikawa finally slowed to a stop. “Look, Tobio-chan, we can stalk everybody from up here!”

“It’s not stalking if they all look the same,” Kageyama said with a frown.

Oikawa huffed. “Humor me, won’t you?”

Oikawa wasn’t completely wrong. From where they stood at the top of the hill, the massive crowd of people was visible. Music blared on a loudspeaker somewhere below and with the heightening energy of the mob, it wouldn’t be long until the new year arrived.

“You know,” Oikawa began with a grin. “Since we’re here for both New Year’s Eve and day, it’s kind of like being here together for two years!”

Kageyama’s frown deepened. “That makes no sense. Where did you learn that from?”

“A book,” Oikawa whined. “A double-year shrine visit, or ninen mairi in slang. It’s where you pray when the clock strikes twelve. But I don’t want to walk back down there again. Anyway, don’t worry about the technical bits. It’s,” he waved his hands in the air, creating a poor imitation of magic, “the thought that counts.”

When Kageyama stayed silent, Oikawa huffed. “Don’t you wanna spend two years with me?”

Two years with Oikawa Tooru. It didn’t seem possible. It was unlikely they would even last more than a few hours together. But the just the act of this thought being considered made a thrill of hope rush beneath his skin, which was new. Excitement about this. Not victory against a stronger opponent, milk, or a morning run. 

Excitement about someone who wanted to spend time with him. 

Oikawa regarded him with warm eyes and aimed an earnest smile at Kageyama. He liked to think that that expression was reserved only for him.

“I don’t bite,” Oikawa said with a puff of amusement. “And I know Tobio-chan would never bite me.” He contemplated this with a teasing grin. “That would be super kinky though, huh?”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Kageyama muttered, and he wanted to turn away from those too affectionate, too warm eyes that he was certain would burn him alive if he stepped too close. But everything else in the world when compared to Oikawa seemed dull, empty, and not worth observing. The feeling rivalled that of the one that raced through him when a new point was scored in a match; adrenaline, but fiery in a way that soared without ever dropping from the sky.

It was then that it occurred to Kageyama why their conversation sounded strange to his ears. Not once had the word “volleyball” or anything like it been uttered by either of them.

Before he had the time to ponder this, Oikawa whipped his head down toward the direction of the crowd at the base of the hill. “Look, look! They’re starting the countdown!”

In the distance, Kageyama could hear the faint voices shouting numbers into the sky, starting from ten. But numbers and time paled in contrast to the ecstatic way Oikawa beamed at him, like this moment in time meant more than anything in this world to him. 

His excitement was contagious, and Kageyama’s heart fluttered in his chest, as trapped as a caged bird.

“Next year will be a thousand times better than this one,” Oikawa whispered in a faint voice, turning to face him. “Yeah?”

Eyes didn’t shine without a supplement of water, but Oikawa’s did, catching the faraway glow of the soft lanterns at the bottom of the hill. Or rather, the twinkle of orange light pooled around the edges of his eyes, like untouchable flashes of liquid. It was beautiful, but in the same way, so—

Hopeless.

It made him remember the dry, pressed flowers he saw his sister placing gingerly between the pages of her books. They were picked with hands knowing they would die, but pressed, hoping to latch on to the remnants of their beauty, even after a slow, withering death. The dead flowers would remain lovely for as long as time would allow, but they’d always be nothing more than ghosts of once radiant petals.

“Yeah,” Kageyama mumbled, unable to see the future or even guarantee they’d be alive the next minute, but still having nothing else to say.

Oikawa hummed happily. Five more seconds. “If your simpleton mind thinks so, then it must be true!”

When the fireworks were launched into the dark sky, Oikawa inched to his side and reached out. He clutched the edges of the thick fabric of Kageyama’s coat, in the same way Kageyama had once done to Oikawa.

If only his middle school self could see them now.

**That feels like the sharp blade**

**Of a purposeful knife.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poem by yours truely, as an angsty fourth grader!! you'll be seeing a lot of my old poems, since they oddly fit this fanfic (is it destiny~~? (゜ロ゜)).
> 
> thank you again to [MissKiraBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKiraBlue)!!
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](https://aquartertohalf.tumblr.com/)! or just come and scowl at my drawings!


	6. sleeping too much and waking up still tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again to my super duper awesome beta for this chapter, [MissKiraBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKiraBlue)!!! (*ˊᗜˋ*)/ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ* check out her stories (they'll make you cri) 
> 
> i had three bones (lol teeth) yanked out of my skull on sunday in prep for braces and fjdsiflsk i miss eating without wondering if this bite will be the one to end me AHA. i also found a fellow reader that i could recommend fanfics and stories to, and AHHH it makes me so happy (´༎ຶ ͜ʖ ༎ຶ `)
> 
> so, since the rest of the plot and story is getting revealed, i'll slowly start editing the tags (and maybe the rating if i wimp out on writing the smut (´ж｀;)) enough blabbing,, i hope you like the chapter~~

**Have you ever met a person**

Perhaps it was pure coincidence, perhaps it was because of Kageyama’s lucky fortune, perhaps it was something else altogether, but everything shone a little brighter. More plausible and tinged with hope. 

His eyes didn’t sting when his gaze landed on the white, blanket of snow covering the ground, and the last time Oikawa had laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for entire hours seemed like forever. The world felt lighter—as if he just tried a little harder, resisted a little longer, forced his way a little farther, anything was possible.

Oikawa wondered why he had been in such a state. He didn’t sleep enough. (But hadn’t he slept too much?) That must have been the reason. _Wow_ , Oikawa thought, spinning a volleyball over the tips of his fingers and relishing the rough feeling, _being tired sure is problematic._

Iwaizumi was right about him.

Oikawa was just—

being a drama queen.

Nothing bad happened to him; maybe he was separated from his best friend, maybe his knee ached a little now and then, maybe he couldn’t figure out how to approach his team, but—

_it wasn’t worth getting so damn upset over._

A swell of guilt rolled over his chest when he remembered how he led Kageyama along. He shouldn’t have been so rude to the poor thing. Approaching his junior had been a mistake on his part. A stupid, idiotic one. He wasn’t thinking straight. Oikawa stilled the volleyball and rolled it over the pads of his thumb, stomach churning. If he had to come up with empty excuses to justify his wrongdoings, it must have been really bad this time. 

The words—meaningless, sugar-coated words which he had said to Kageyama sat at the back of his consciousness, inching forward whenever he stood on the edge of forgetting about them (or at least when he tried his hand at forgetting about them).

_God, what was I thinking? I clearly wasn’t_.

God _._

“Oikawa-kun?”

Oikawa turned around, surprised to see his upperclassman. Riku, the wing spiker, with broad shoulders that would have reminded Oikawa of Iwaizumi if not for his shy, timid glances. Over the months he played with his team, he’d come to realize that they were not, in fact, badly duplicated copies of Ushijima. He didn’t dislike them any less, for excluding him when they _knew_ he relied on steady communication and strong bonds.

It made him angry because of how bad he felt about being angry about it.

If he pondered this too much, guilt would eventually start to overwhelm him. _I’m not guilty_ , he told himself. Oikawa couldn’t remember the last time he felt an impulsive urge to apologize so profusely. It was just a phase. It would pass.

Oikawa straightened. The wide, confident grin was familiar, like passing an old friend at the supermarket. “What’s up?”

Riku’s gaze dropped to the gym floor.

Oikawa wanted to do the same, but he forced himself to keep his head up, and never drop his smile.

**Who at first glance**

**You’re not attracted to**

“How are things going?” Iwaizumi asked, voice slow as if he was trying to reason with an exploding bomb. Cautious, and Iwaizumi wasn’t one for caution when it came to Oikawa. The strange unfamiliarity of his tone sent prickles down his arms.

Oikawa frowned at his tone, even though he knew the other couldn’t see his face. “My teammates are a funny bunch, you know. Milk bread is so expensive. I have to sell my organs, Iwa-chan, I’ve already lost my kidney!”

Iwaizumi grunted. “Just don’t buy milk bread then.”

“I have to!” Oikawa’s eyes widened with disbelief. “I’m already half-dead without you here, do you want to send me to an early grave? I knew you were harsh, but I didn’t think you were this cruel. Won’t you miss me?”

Iwaizumi sounded as unimpressed as he always did. “Don’t be such a drama queen,” he said, “What is else going on over there? Your friends? Classes? Are you sleeping like a normal person?”

“Normality is a social construct—”

“Answer the damn questions, Shittykawa.”

“Are you my mom, Iwa—”

A loud sigh ripped through his phone and echoed off his bare walls. 

Oikawa had turned the lights off, and the only thing that surrounded him was the absolute darkness of the room, like an unfeeling, numb blanket. If he forced himself to imagine hard enough, he could almost pretend he was lying on his bed back at home.

It was comforting, avoiding the sight of the room, the same one that should have felt like home after all these months.

Oikawa echoed Iwaizumi’s sigh, just as loud. “Chillax, mom, I’m still alive and breathing here.” He cleared his throat purposefully. “Maybe, you should be grateful to have such a living, upright, amazing friend.”

“Nobody says chillax anymore,” he heard Iwaizumi mutter.

Oikawa huffed. “Well, I do.” He opened his eyes. In the room so suffocated with darkness and his back to the only window, he wasn’t sure if he really did. “How is your boring, dull life without me, Iwa-chan?”

“Fine. I’m better off without you.”

Oikawa frowned when a small stab of hurt jabbed at his lungs _. Iwa-chan’s just joking._ “How mean!” He whined. “You’re going to make me cry!”

Iwaizumi sighed again. “You’re ridiculous. I have to finish homework now. I’ll call you later?”

Oikawa hummed. “Don’t miss me too much. Bye, Iwa-chan!”

“God, give me patience,” Iwaizumi groaned. A second later, a beep sounded in his ear and the air around Oikawa fell back into silence. All of a sudden, the darkness, the quiet became too much. He rolled over to face the window. Through his curtains, Oikawa could see heavy clouds covering the moon.

Iwaizumi had been his distraction, but now that he was gone, Oikawa’s mind drifted back to his and Riku’s conversation. Coach had allowed Oikawa to be the main setter not only because he was talented, but because they needed a replacement. 

_A replacement_. Riku’s quiet, soft voice had spat out that word so viciously he’d almost flinched.

They all saw Oikawa as a stand-in and resented him for it. Riku didn’t need to voice it for Oikawa to immediately see the feelings behind his words. He wondered what the team had been like before the previous setter was gone. Cheerful, perhaps. Not this solemn, long-faced bunch.

_Actually_ , Oikawa thought, closing his eyes and listening to the steady growth of his pounding heart, _dead is a less confusing word for it._

_By-_

**But then you talk**

**And with every word**

Oikawa watched the team from the bleachers, hand on his knee in an attempt to soothe the warmth radiating from his skin. It was almost summer and despite the jacket sitting around his shoulders, the tips of his fingers still felt frozen to the touch. Strange temperatures were new to Oikawa—being too warm in the winter and too cold in the summer. He kept on forgetting to ask the coach to lower the air conditioning in the gym.

Iwaizumi was right. Iwaizumi was often right. He shouldn’t have practiced when the coach advised him to stop, even if it meant a better connection with his teammates. He shouldn’t have spent an hour last night trying to straighten his leg against the harsh pinching pain in the back of his knee.

_If I ignore it_ , Oikawa thought, _then it’ll go away_. 

Acknowledging it meant acknowledging a problem, and things couldn’t go downhill right when things seemed to be improving. He avoided looking at the swelling and pretended not to hear the popping sound each time his leg bent. _It doesn’t exist if I don’t think about it._

(He knew he should see a doctor—a specialist—but the fear that they would confirm the short span of time he had left to play volleyball made his lungs seize up. Oikawa was petty, and he didn’t want to watch his seconds tick away, while he was rotting away in physical therapy, even if it meant seeing another bright star of hope.

He was tired, even though he had been sleeping for more than he ever had in his life. Small, routine things that should have come naturally to him after living all these years, slipped from his mind. Weight fell from his body like stones. Everything hurt, but everything felt numb at the _same fucking, exhausting time._

What he did want, was for Iwaizumi to force him into an appointment. To knock down the door of his university’s gym and drag him to the clinic, kicking and screaming. 

But Iwaizumi was miles away, unaware of Oikawa, and busy with his own problems to take care of, much less the issues he had always cleaned up for Oikawa.

So without Iwaizumi, Oikawa would stay here, seated on this very bench, and stubbornly touching the heated skin of his knee with the cold tips of his fingers until they ached.

Oikawa could barely live without Iwaizumi.)

Ignorance was bliss.

“Oikawa?”

_Am I so jaded that I’m hearing voices now?_ Oikawa mused, laughter bubbling up in his chest. _Wow, that almost sounded like my dear Ushiwaka-chan. Say, wouldn’t it be funny if—_

“Oikawa.”

The amusement died as quickly as it had sprung up.

_Ignorance was, indeed, a bliss._

Oikawa hummed the cheesy pop song that had been circulating on the radio for the past week, jerking his mind away from whatever horrid possibilities it had come up with what he’d have for dinner tonight.

Aloud, he said, “I am very busy thinking about the best position for a threesome, and anybody who talks to me right now might be roped into it, so please leave me to my lonely lonesome.”

Silence. And then—

“I’m not interested in a polyamory relationship, Oikawa, but—”

_Oh my fucking god._

Momentarily forgetting about his knee, Oikawa jumped up from his comfortable seat on the bleachers and whirled around, snapping, “For god’s sake, Ushiwaka-chan, as if anyone would want to fuck you!”

His right knee almost buckled from under him, but unlike the other fourteen –he was scared and stubborn enough to count– times, Oikawa fumbled for something to lean against casually and his hand ended up awkwardly on a chair’s headrest.

Ushijima, who hadn’t changed even a hair since the last time they met (When was that? A year? Time seemed to fly past him nowadays), gave him an odd look. “What are you doing?”

The pain in his knee was bringing tears to his eyes and he subtly shifted onto this left foot. “Whatever do you mean?” Oikawa asked innocently, placing his free hand on his hip. He tilted his head towards the overhead light, knowing exactly which way to angle his chin to look his best. “How do you know I’m not practicing,” he grinned with too much teeth, “for my next photo shoot?”

Ushijima stared at him. “I don’t have expertise in modelling, but you are in a very awkward pose. Perhaps you need a hand?”

“I,” Oikawa hissed through gritted teeth, “am perfectly fine where I am. In fact, this pose is the hottest trend right now, you just lack the exquisite taste to appreciate beauty.”

“People have strange taste these days,” Ushijima remarked with a critical eye at Oikawa’s stance. “It—”

“What are you doing here?” Oikawa interrupted. “This isn’t a zoo; you can’t just barge in whenever you like and watch us play.”

“I am aware,” Ushijima said, slipping off his backpack and unzipping it. To Oikawa’s surprise, he pulled out three packaged pieces of bread. Milk bread. “Iwaizumi told me you liked these.”

He held them out, and without thinking, Oikawa took them, staring incredulously. “When’d you meet Iwa-chan?”

“Last week.”

“Last week!” Oikawa yelped. “Iwa-chan has betrayed me, how could he? Oh my god, our friendship is broken now—wait.” He squinted at Ushijima. “Is this a confession?”

“No, my coach said it would be a good idea for me to take a look at other universities and colleges to get a grasp at how their players operate. I thought perhaps we could play together sometime.” He eyed Oikawa’s knee. “Though I doubt that will happen anytime soon. You should receive medical attention for—”

“It’s _my_ leg,” Oikawa huffed. “I can’t believe your coach told you to _spy_ on us and you tried you _bribe_ me.”

Ushijima watched him, unblinking. “We will be opponents soon. Our schools have a practice match scheduled for next Friday.”

Waves of nausea left his stomach beaten up and bruised. He wanted to lie down and never get back up. 

A match with Ushijima’s university. 

Oikawa’s team had had a rough few months, with erratic losses and few lucky wins. Strong, that was something he didn’t feel. What he did feel, was as if the next harsh blow of wind would knock him off his feet.

Where was his confidence?

Where was his pride?

They would win. The need to shrink into his jacket under Ushijima’s gaze was simply to make time to devise a plan. He was mistaking excitement for uneasiness. Of course they would win. It may have been just a practice game to Ushijima, but it meant the world to Oikawa.

Oikawa would set the winning point for the match against Ushijima, and then for the one against Kageyama, after he graduated high school.

Oikawa straightened and ignored the stabbing pains in his knee. He’d get painkillers for that later. With as sweet of a smile as he could manage, he said, “Don’t cry too hard when you lose, Ushiwaka-chan.”

In reality, all he wanted to do was to bury his face in his hands and wish for an asteroid to hit earth. If only, _if only_ he could disappear and never return again.

**Every smile**

“You’re spending a lot of time with the Great King, huh?” Tsukishima commented in his smooth, suspicious way, all the while eyeing the device in Kageyama’s hand. “Preparing for war or are your daughters getting married?”

Kageyama scowled and hid his phone from view. Heat made his cheeks flush, but a small part of him was pleased that somebody noticed a change. 

Avoiding the topic of Oikawa only made Kageyama want to talk about him more, and despite all of his morals and judgement, his heart leapt into his throat each time he saw Oikawa’s name flash across his screen. Oikawa lit up his phone in the same way that he lit up Kageyama’s world—a brief spike that left imprints behind his eyelids.

“It’s none of your business,” Kageyama replied curtly.

Tsukishima’s lips twitched upwards, a smirk that was the closest thing to a smile he could ever manage. “Well, of course it is. Honestly, I’m insulted that you haven’t invited me to the wedding yet.”

“No. You would poison the cake.”

“I’m insulted you think my assassination plan is so simple – so it’s a wedding then?”

Kageyama regarded Yamaguchi and Hinata, who had run off in a desperate attempt to catch frogs in the distance. “I don’t understand how Yamaguchi stands you.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “And yet, you’re here, still breathing, alive, and talking to me. Changing the topic isn’t your strong suit, king.”

Kageyama didn’t reply, fearing that the words he let escape his mouth would mirror the ones that frequently sprouted from his sister after meeting a new, pretty boy. When he sat at their kitchen table, tuning out the varying degrees of frustrated outbursts and dreamy, infatuated sighs, he often wondered why she needed to voice it all. Now, he understood the impulse to spit out every thought he’d ever had about Oikawa, from the smallest details of how his eyes shifted when he smiled against the sun to the times their skin grazed.

Tsukishima sighed, purposefully loud and startling Kageyama from the memory of the feeling of Oikawa’s touch against his hand.

“You don’t need that much air!” Kageyama snapped.

Tsukishima ignored him. “Even dictators rant about their problems, you know. Granted, I may seriously question your sanity and hold it over your head for as long as you live—”

“I never would’ve pinned you as an understanding person.”

Tsukishima smirked, haughty and jeering. “Unlike you, I have a life outside of volleyball and a bright mind.”

Kageyama grinded his teeth, relishing the distracting sound. This was as close to nice that Tsukishima would get, and it still made him want to launch a volleyball into his sneering face. The thought of confessing all the feelings hidden deep in his chest to Tsukishima of all people was as strange as breezing a math exam. On the contrary, perhaps it was preferable to coughing up the truth to Hinata, who would surely spread the word like wildfire.

He gripped his knees hard enough for them to hurt.

Kageyama took a long breath, until the depths of his lungs ached. On the exhale, he blurted out, “I want to touch his face.”

They both stood there for a long moment, silence enveloping them in a cocoon of astonishment. It was almost peaceful, had Kageyama not basked in horror at the phrase that just escaped his mouth.

Finally, Tsukishima made a small noise and said almost patronizingly, “Excuse me?”

Kageyama stared straight ahead, focusing on Yamaguchi’s flailing arms as if he ignored the question, the whole thing would just fade out of existence.

Tsukishima cleared his throat. “Have you considered seeing a professional?”

Kageyama buried his face in his hands and wished for an asteroid to hit earth. If only, _if only_ he could disappear and never return again.

**Every laugh**

Lately, more so than usual, whenever Kageyama had a spare moment to think, his mind trailed its way back to Oikawa. It held on tight to the concept of him; whenever Kageyama tried to rip his conscious away, something pulled at his heart and begged him to stop.

He saw Oikawa everywhere, in the brown hair of the girl who sat in front of him in science, hidden away behind a gang of unruly friends, standing at the edge of a train station with his eyes ever so fixated on every passing flash of metal.

But at the same time, he was nowhere at all.

In every shadow of Kageyama’s imagination, his image of Oikawa felt like a lie, a poor attempt to replace the real thing. And Kageyama had long since figured out, back when he first saw that serve, that Oikawa was something that couldn’t be exchanged. 

He was like a painting that no artist could ever hope to replicate, even with the most delicate of strokes or the highest-grade paintbrushes.

Kageyama leaned against the wall of the mall and did everything to stop his eyes from scanning the crowd of people for an Oikawa shaped body. 

Every time, his heart jumped in his chest. 

He tried to convince himself that he was neither excited nor nervous. Seeing the brunet was no different from meeting up Hinata or Tsukishima or Yamaguchi—as friends and nothing more.

And he knew that just by thinking that very thought made it so much more.

“Tobio-chan!”

Before he could stop himself, his head shot towards the direction of Oikawa’s chirpy voice. It danced its way above the heads of the masses of people and echoed in Kageyama’s ears, like a broken record. His breath caught without his permission when Oikawa popped through the crowd and appeared in front of him, all wide smiles and eyes glistening with stardust.

“You invited me here,” Oikawa said with a loud, dramatic sigh. “Shouldn’t you at least greet me? An ‘I missed you so much, my favourite senpai’ would do just fine, you know.”

It irritated him because a small, tiny, barely existing part of him _did_ want to say exactly that. “Hello,” was the flat word that slipped from his tongue instead.

Oikawa snorted. “I guess even hearing from you is an improvement from the usual sack of stones I talk to.”

Kageyama wanted to retort an insult, but Oikawa grabbed his wrist and the words died right there in his mouth. 

(One of Oikawa’s bruised fingers grazed his palm and Kageyama wished to every star above their heads for their hands to slip together, and lock the spaces between their fingers with a broken, unfixable key.)

With Oikawa’s warm skin against his own, every harsh, awful thing he’d ever said to Kageyama ceased to exist, and the only thing he could think about was how much he wanted this instant to last forever.

**They become more beautiful**

Every second spent with Oikawa felt like something stolen. Moments that were meant to be treasured and preserved in his mind until the end of time itself. Even though he couldn’t count the hours they’d spent together on one hand anymore, watching Oikawa’s lips drag into a smile meant just for him, was as if he’d stepped into a dream.

He wished he could embed the sentences they’d said to each other into his mind, so that each night when he laid sleepless in bed, the words reminded him that he wasn’t living in a fantasy.

He risked a glance at Oikawa. He was sifting through racks of clothing that looked completely identical to Kageyama. Kageyama cleared his throat, trying to find the right words to say, but failing each time they reached the tip of his tongue. Finally, he settled on, “Are you done?”

Oikawa straightened with a huff. “ _Tobio-chan_ , maybe if you grew another pair of eyes, you’d realize that it’s important to look your very best.”

“They look the same.”

“They do _not_. Look, this one has a green alien peeking out from its pocket, but _this_ one’s alien is blue, and blue helps with emotional stability.”

Kageyama squinted. “Then get the green one.”

Oikawa scrunched up his nose and scrutinized the clothes as if the very balance of his life hung on this choice. “But blue! I’m getting the blue one.” He unhooked the shirt from the hanger and grinned. “Not like it matters, since I look stunning in everything.”

He posed and stuck out his right leg so awkwardly that Kageyama wondered if he would topple over right there and then. Oikawa blew a kiss and spun around. Kageyama followed him, and it was only then that he realized just how slow they were walking. Oikawa was favouring his left leg. 

A slow tremor raced down his leg each time he took a step forward; shaking, but _not_ , in such a way that Kageyama couldn’t understand why he didn’t see it earlier.

“I’m tired,” he declared, even though just being with Oikawa made energy he didn’t know he had dash through his body, “Don’t walk so fast.”

And Oikawa turned around, with such relief in his eyes that Kageyama found it hard to breathe.

**Until you can’t believe**

“Hey,” Kageyama said suddenly, surprising himself. The photo booth that had been sitting at the edge of his vision seemed to brighten in encouragement. “Let’s—” his voice trailed off and he pointed at the booth. “Photos.”

Oikawa raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you liked those kinds of things.”

“I don’t.”

Oikawa grinned. “C’mon then, what are you waiting for?”

He rose from his chair and marched over to the machine. Kageyama followed, a little hesitant, even though it had been his idea in the first place. Besides the one that featured him bowing, they’d never taken a picture together before. The thought of it made his heart race—him and Oikawa, as a memory forever enclosed within a tiny piece of paper. 

Something to prove that this (whatever _this_ was) happened.

“Luckily for you,” Oikawa was saying as he pushed a few yen into a slot, “I know how to use this hunk of metal. It’s strange to see something so western here. Tokyo has a bunch of them. Four pictures, okay? In case I look ugly in the first few.” He batted his eyelashes. “Which is impossible, of course.”

“In you go!” Oikawa pressed a few buttons and shoved Kageyama inside the booth.

Kageyama blinked. 

He didn’t realize the inside was so _small_. The two of them weren’t small in stature by any means, but Oikawa’s shoulder was pressed against his own and every second made more and more blood rush up to flush his cheeks. He hoped the redness wouldn’t show in the photos. Being so close to Oikawa sent his heart rate shooting through the roof, and prolonged exposure definitely would do him harm.

_Definitely_.

And yet, Kageyama wanted to forget about the photos and move closer.

Oikawa tapped his finger against a touchscreen before pointing at a little black dot on the wall in front of them. “Smile in three… two… one!”

Kageyama wasn’t sure if he did, but one thing he was sure of was that somewhere in between Oikawa’s shining smiles, his stupidly big ego, their conversations tinged with a feeling he couldn’t discern, his admiration shifted to something more than just that.

It took three more photos and three more attempts to smile (and not look at Oikawa’s perfects ones) for him to register that—

Perhaps—

“And… done!” Oikawa grinned and stepped out of the photo booth, tugged Kageyama along with him. “You’ll keep two, and I’ll keep the others.”

Kageyama watched him carefully tear the strand of smooth paper, completely unaware that he had just caused Kageyama’s universe to crumble into splinters, only to put the pieces back together.

Oikawa looked no different than he did an hour ago, with eyes that Kageyama thought were brighter than stars above their heads and a horrible personality that was so uniquely _him_.

Oikawa was still the same Oikawa, but Kageyama couldn’t understand how he had lived for so long without feeling this sensation.

It made his chest ache with phantom pains, and despite that, he didn’t want it to go away. It hurt, but if it meant staying here, breathing the same air and living in the same timeline as this person in front of him, then a few heartaches wouldn’t matter.

“I look the best in these, so you keep it,” Oikawa handed Kageyama two of the photos with a satisfied smile. “I know I’m pretty, and you’ll probably want to spend hours staring at this face without me knowing.” He winked mischievously. “It’s our secret.”

Kageyama flushed, but he took them anyway. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

The truth was, Oikawa had been spot-on. He wanted to protect this moment. But he also wanted to stare at Oikawa’s smile and never look away, but his pride would never allow him to admit it.

He glanced down at the photos. Kageyama was no poet, but he knew that the word _smile_ could never describe the look painted on Oikawa’s face. And perhaps he was biased, but either way—

Kageyama wondered just how little he wouldn’t do for Oikawa to keep smiling.

**There was a moment**

Oikawa stared at the white ceiling.

He never understood why hospitals were all so gloomy and faded, like the afterimage of something that was so much more than beds and worried expressions. When he laid on these dull mattresses, all the hope seemed to drain out of his body. The painkillers worked their magic on the pains in his knee, but it also made him feel number than ever.

He could understand why people refused to take their medication. 

It was a choice between hurting all over or slaughtering the emotions that made a person human. At least, when there was a stabbing pain, they knew that they were still alive.

“Oikawa-kun?”

He almost forgot how to sit up. 

But a long moment later, Oikawa propped himself up and turned his attention away from the blinding ceiling to his coach. This was when he should smile and crack a joke, but every sentence dried up in his mouth.

“You’ll remain in this university,” Coach immediately said. Oikawa felt strangely grateful for his straightforwardness. “Your grades are still high enough for our standards, but you’ll lose your scholarship. I’ve talked to your teachers. You’ll pass, but they did duck a few points for missing finals week.”

_I should say thank you._

“Thank you.”

His coach reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “Here,” he said, handing it to Oikawa. “I won two tickets to an onsen last week. I’m not much of a hot springs sort of man, and maybe the warm waters will help your knee. They’re rumoured to have healing factors.”

Oikawa had to blink a few times before accepting it. When his eyes landed on the advertising image on the card, for the first time since he fell in the court, his mouth tasted of panic.

He lost his scholarship.

He couldn’t play volleyball anymore.

And what was left of him without volleyball?

His chest felt constricted. 

Here was his coach, who trusted him enough to allow him to play as the main setter and who was kind enough to give him prize tickets to an expensive onsen, even though they would probably never be able to meet each other’s eyes ever again. And he still managed to destroy his one, golden opportunity and land himself in a _fucking hospital_.

Guilt left an ugly scar on his skin that he hoped nobody could see. His eyes stung and he knew what he should be doing right now—he should smile, straighten up, and blink away the moisture in his eyes.

Smiling was so much easier when his world wasn’t tilted sideways.

“You’ll feel better once you soak for a while with someone important,” Coach said, his normally harsh voice soft.

_Someone important._

That would be Iwaizumi.

Except the voice that rang in his ears wasn’t Iwaizumi’s rough one, but the flat tone of Kageyama’s awkward sentences. _God, don’t I hate him?_ The world had turned upside down.

He could barely live without Iwaizumi.

“Before I go, the doctor told me to give you this,” his coach set a brochure onto the small table beside Oikawa’s bed. And then he stood up, bid his goodbye, and was gone.

Oikawa picked up the brochure. There was a picture of a woman staring out the window, filtered a dull blue. The head title read—

_Spotting Symptoms of Depression_

Oikawa stared, waiting patiently for his mind to catch up with his eyes. 

_They probably gave me something that was meant for another patient_. 

But he flipped it open anyway.

  1. _Lost interest in formerly beloved activities._
  2. _Sleeping too much (or too little)._
  3. _Overwhelming guilt._
  4. _Forgetting daily routines (e.g., brushing teeth, etc.)._
  5. _Numbness._
  6. _Shaky concentration (e.g., excessive breaks, looking out windows, etc.)_



Oikawa quickly flipped the brochure shut and closed his eyes. He needed something to distract himself, or else his mind would swirl back to the dead setter like it had been for the past month.

When he opened them again, he lunged for his phone and found Kageyama’s contact with trembling fingers.

**Me:** _tobio-channnn, we’re going to an onsen on august 8 th and 9th (_ _๑_ _˃̵ᴗ˂̵_ _)~_

**Me _:_** _i miss you~~_ _～_ _(^з^)-_ _♡_

Almost immediately, his phone buzzed with a reply.

**_Tobio-chan_ ** **_凸_ ** **_(_ ** **_⊙_ ** **_▂⊙✖_ ** **_):_ ** _okay_

No hesitation, no questions, nothing except for a simple _okay_.

At that moment, for Oikawa, it was more than enough.

**You didn’t think they were.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this poem is by atticus!! it's simple, but it's probably my favourite one in this fanfic~
> 
> thank you again to [MissKiraBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKiraBlue)!!
> 
> talk to me at [tumblr](https://aquartertohalf.tumblr.com/)! or just come and scowl at my drawings~~


	7. you're the best actor i've ever met

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahHH school is starting soon, and i hope the my first semester's classes aren't french or gym. my french listening is absolute shit and soccer will be the death of me (but.. volleyball, lolol can't wait for that one). 
> 
> my school's pretty far from my home, and i'll be taking the ttc myself- i feel like an adult Ꮚ˃̶͈ꈊ˂̶͈Ꮚ (tho i wish this milestone could've been achieved after the pandemic (´;-;｀))
> 
> as always,, thank you so much, [MissKiraBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKiraBlue) for beta-ing this chapter!!! \\(-ㅂ-)/ ♥ ♥ ♥

**hey there, pretty stranger,**

**i couldn’t help but notice**

**the little smile on your face this morning.**

Sometimes, Kageyama liked to glance at the pictures they’d taken in the mall on the odd occasion. Every time he laid his eyes on Oikawa’s shining ones and pretended that he wasn’t gazing at a replica, he could almost imagine the brunette was there with him. 

And each time he did this, prickles of something bitterswam deep in his stomach. He was jealous of  _ himself _ , the version of him that was in the picture, even though he was the one that experienced that moment outside of the photo’s frozen frame. Kageyama never told Tsukishima this, because he didn’t even need to try too hard to imagine Tsukishima’s hysterical laughter at this new revelation.

Kageyama was certain he’d memorized Oikawa’s face by now. From the particular way his eyes squinted when he smiled, to the strands of his hair. 

There was nothing he missed; he was certain. 

Oikawa looked happy. This wasn’t one of those picture-perfect fake smiles he wore for other people. Kageyama was  _ sure  _ of it. 

His phone lit up with a new text, and he ripped his eyes away from the photo. 

_ Oikawa _ .

Kageyama slipped the picture into his desk drawer, and clicked open the message. 

**_♥️ Oikawa-senpai ♥️_ ** :  _ don’t forget about our tripppp~~ oh btw, get your butt there early to sign in with moi  _

Maybe one day, he would get tired of Oikawa’s playful nature. 

But right now, it made his chest ache with affection. 

**this usually isn’t my style,**

**but the possible fantasy**

Oikawa was already waiting by the gate when Kageyama arrived, fiddling with a piece of paper and utterly unconcerned that just the sight of him threatened to shatter Kageyama’s world. It wasn’t until Kageyama was less than a meter away from him, that Oikawa looked up, fingers finally stilling around the good luck fortune from all those months ago. It both surprised and sent sparks of happiness exploding in his chest knowing that it had been kept safely all this time. 

“Ready to admire my amazing physique, Tobio-chan?” was the first thing that came from Oikawa’s mouth while he slipped the slip of paper into his pocket. When Kageyama flushed, he grinned. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Kageyama ignored him. Instead, he ducked his head and mumbled a quiet, “Thank you for inviting me here, senpai.”

Oikawa hummed cheerfully. “Senpai. Music to my ears, coming from you.” He led the way inside. “I’m flattered you think I can afford these, but you’d want to thank my coach for that. What a thoughtful guy, huh?”

“Your coach?” Kageyama asked, confused. He cast a long look at the building. The charming place seemed like a place only the wealthy could afford, and he felt the back of his neck heat up at the thought of joining people whose money fell leagues above his own. “Why would your coach give you free passes to an onsen?”

“He won them and thought I was too amazing to not deserve a trip,” Oikawa replied breezily as they passed through the gate. “Hot springs are good for healing, apparently.”

Kageyama startled. “Are you sick?”

Oikawa glanced at him, eyes crinkling in the corners with a wide grin meant for a photograph. 

He often mused about his senpai’s beaming smiles--appearing as real as Hinata’s or Yamaguchi’s--but sometimes he wondered if Oikawa simply liked posing for invisible cameras.

The same thought wandered into his mind now, and he almost missed Oikawa’s airy, “Not in that way.”

Kageyama frowned. In between the empty spaces of their conversations when his head wasn’t filled to the brim with the other’s voice, he found himself wanting to ask Oikawa if they had been secretly playing a devious word game only Oikawa could decipher all this time. “What other way is there?”

“Lots, you simpleton,” Oikawa responded with a huff. Kageyama glanced at Oikawa’s leg, watching the limp. Taking those pictures with Oikawa seemed like a lifetime ago, but perhaps certain injuries took longer to heal? Kageyama’s only ranged from scratches to different levels of bruises, and he was no doctor.  _ Maybe that’s what Oikawa meant by sick. _

Oikawa grabbed Kageyama’s hand to stop him moments before they reached the front door, and like every other time it happened, his heart felt like it’d halted in his chest, even though the books said it was meant to pound at his ribcage. (According to Tsukishima and his little relationship expertise, this was called the “honeymoon phase”, where emotions felt just a little too sharp and piercing. Kageyama wanted to tell him that they weren’t dating and ask if a phase lasting over two years was possible, but the words felt like paste on his tongue.) 

Oikawa leaned forward and poked a finger hard against Kageyama’s cheek. It made Kageyama jump, but he still didn’t fail to observe that Oikawa’s finger was warmer than his palm. Softer than the last time he touched it, but maybe he’d just forgotten. Though it was difficult to imagine that he’d ever forget the touch of his senpai’s hands, even if he put in his best efforts. 

“There is this wonderful thing called the internet,” Oikawa told him, like he was scolding a child. Kageyama wanted to point out that  _ he  _ wasn’t the one poking people’s cheeks, but he didn’t, because he didn’t want that to stop Oikawa from doing it again. “Maybe I can introduce her to you tonight, Tobio-chan.”

“I know how to search something up,” Kageyama grumbled. “I would have failed math if I didn’t.”

He flushed. He  _ did  _ almost fail math last year.

Oikawa let go of his hand and skipped ahead, laughing at something only he understood. “If you blush like that, I might just fall for you, Tobio-chan!”

Kageyama pretended he didn’t notice the soar of his hope with the gnawing chance of  _ maybe  _ that used to sit motionless in the back of his mind. His eye strayed towards Oikawa’s hand, and he longed for the day that he could grab it without a moment’s hesitation. 

But he followed his senpai through the double doors without making a move.

After signing in and dropping their bags off in their room, they headed straight into the changing room. To his surprise, it was empty. He couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or a bad one. As they exchanged their clothing for towels to wrap around their waists, Kageyama’s face burned and he hoped the same excruciating anxiety wouldn’t follow him around for the rest of the trip. The last time he’d seen Oikawa naked was back in junior high, and back then his admiration had been innocent. 

Not that it wasn’t now. _Of course._ _Yeah_. 

He avoided looking his senior in the face anyway.

Oikawa stretched his leg, and through the anxiety coursing in his veins, Kageyama noticed one long scar running down his knee. Before Kageyama could comment on it, Oikawa said something about the sanitation of water and pushed him into the public baths.

Kageyama was nervous the entire time as they washed themselves. Oikawa acted the same as usual though, and it left a bitter taste of disappointment in his mouth.

_ Notice me _ , he wanted to say.  _ I grew up, we’re not in junior high anymore.  _

_ Why won’t you notice me? _

“My professors are such boring people,” Oikawa began to say. “All they do is talk. Okay, yeah, I guess that’s what professors are supposed to do, but wouldn’t be great if they all broke out in song once in a while? I can’t even bother Iwa-chan anymore,” he stopped for a moment and then continued, “I wonder how he’s doing. It’s only fair that if I can’t survive without him, he can’t survive without me either. Stupid distance, and stupid university.”

Kageyama’s attention trailed to Oikawa’s hair. The ends were tipped with soap suds and some of it fell into his eyes. Whenever they were together, not a single strand was out of place. It stuck out at just the right places, curling around his head like a crown. Iwaizumi used to mutter about Oikawa selling his soul to the devil in exchange for perfect hair everyday back in middle school. It was strange seeing his hair so floppy. It looked soft, even when it was dripping wet.

There was a sudden twinge in his fingertips and wow— _ I want to buy you milk bread and wash your hair for the rest of our lives. _

How would it feel under the pads of his fingers? Maybe he should ask his sister for hairdressing lessons. Not that Oikawa would dare allow Kageyama anywhere close to his hair with scissors in his hands. He’d probably yelp at just the thought of it. The soft current of water streaming from the shower head flowed down Oikawa in little rivers.

_ I want to touch it.  _

“What do you think, Tobio-chan?” Oikawa’s voice suddenly cut through his wandering thoughts, and Kageyama jumped.

A blush warmed his ears and he asked intelligently, “What do I think of what?”

“My hair,” Oikawa said with a cheshire grin that should have annoyed Kageyama, but instead made his heart leap into his throat. “You were staring. What do you think of it?”

Words felt like dry chalk in his throat. “I…uh, it...it’s—”

Oikawa’s smile turned mischievous. “Want to touch it?”

Kageyama couldn’t help the way his hands jolted with excitement. “Really?” he asked with too much enthusiasm. He cleared his throat, feeling the warmth spread from his ears onto his cheeks, and said in a milder tone, “If you want.”

“If  _ you _ want,” Oikawa repeated, and grabbed Kageyama’s hands to jerk him closer. He laced his fingers over Kageyama’s and pressed their hands into his hair, all the while Kageyama pretended his breath wasn’t stuttering in his lungs as he watched Oikawa shut his eyes. “And I know you want to.”

There were knots in his stomach that he didn’t know if he could untangle as he threaded his thumb over a lock of brown hair falling into Oikawa’s closed eyes. He was right—it  _ was _ soft. 

Oikawa pulled his own hands away and Kageyama already missed their warmth. But  _ holy fuck _ , he was touching Oikawa’s hair and he couldn’t believe this was happening. Adrenaline was making his fingers shaky, but he tried to be gentle as he lathered the strands. He didn’t realize just how much he missed this sensation his entire life.

Happiness bloomed in his chest when he realized that he didn’t need to ask Oikawa to sit to wash his hair. He could reach, and for the first time in his life, he could stop thinking of himself as the smaller one of the two.

From his shock of the situation transforming in front of his eyes, he mumbles in a voice too hoarse, “My sister would be jealous of your hair.”

Oikawa laughed. “Just this once I won’t go through my shower routine.”

Kageyama blinked. “You have a showering routine?”

“It takes work to stay handsome,” Oikawa replied, his sharp smile turning soft. “No wonder you finished washing so quickly. It’s astonishing to see that you still have decent hair on your head, Tobio-chan.”

He couldn’t tell if that was an insult or not. “I don’t care what other people think of me.”

One of Oikawa’s closed eyes slid open, and his brown eyes looked startling, surrounded by the white bathing room. “Not even me?”

Kageyama wet his lips. “There’s always exceptions.”

**of being the one who makes you**

**so happy like that**

Oikawa let out a happy little sigh when he sunk into the water. The warmth of the light mist was already casting a hue of red against his skin. Kageyama followed suit, taking care to sit far away enough so they wouldn’t be mistaken for anything other than friends (not that he didn’t want someone to comment on that), despite the urge to inch closer. Three other men were scattered in the baths, distant enough that their conversations wouldn’t be overheard.

Kageyama ducked his shoulders, and the water bordering on the perfect edge of too hot, brushed against his chin. Oikawa flicked the droplets from his fingers onto Kageyama’s face with a cheeky smile. “Are you thinking of changing from sports career to swimming?”

Kageyama blinked hard several times and straightened. “I don’t think the swim team would accept me.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “That was a joke, Tobio-chan. As if you’re good at anything outside the court. Didn’t you ask glasses to tutor you last year?”

When Kageyama stayed silent, Oikawa giggled. “Don’t tell me you asked him to tutor you this year too.”

“I’m not stupid, Oikawa,” Kageyama muttered.

At that, Oikawa crossed his arms and huffed, “Kids sure grow up fast, huh? I can’t even remember the last time you called me Oikawa-san.”

“I’m going into my last year of high school,” Kageyama reminded him.

“That doesn’t change anything!” Oikawa whined. “I’m still older than you!” This time, it was him who sunk into the water and blew bubbles with a pout. 

_ Cute _ , Kageyama thought, before catching himself.  _ A six-foot tall man baby is not cute _ . 

“Hurry up and graduate high school so I can beat you—“ Oikawa suddenly ducked his head under the water, even though he’d just washed his hair. When he resurfaced, he continued with a snarky grin, “your ass without being charged for assaulting a minor.”

“Not before I beat yours,” Kageyama retorted.

Oikawa tutted. “That’s no way to talk to your elders.”

Kageyama grunted and they fell back into silence. It was nice, he decided then. Spending time with Oikawa was more than simply nice, even if they didn’t utter a word. Tsukishima told him that liking someone like Oikawa, who may have not even been attracted to guys, was bound to be a pain in the ass, but Kageyama couldn’t think of a sweeter way of torturing himself.

His leg was starting to cramp up and he shifted. Their knees grazed against each other, and Kageyama remembered the questions he kept forgetting to ask. Not talking about volleyball with Oikawa of all people still seemed so strange. “How…how is volleyball?”

Oikawa blew another stream of bubbles before saying, “I’m not playing volleyball anymore.” Then he examined the tips of his nails and continued, “My nails are starting to get long. Think I can claw Iwa-chan’s eyes out with these?”

It took a moment for the words to register. Oikawa was not playing volleyball anymore.  _ Oikawa Tooru would not be playing volleyball anymore _ . 

The feeling festering in Kageyama’s chest was the same one that stirred when Oikawa used to announce his new girlfriends back in middle school.

Despite his tight lungs, Kageyama understood: they would not approach this subject anymore.

**is enough motivation for my shy mouth**

**to speak up.**

Oikawa had only said the phrase ‘ _ I’m not playing volleyball anymore’ _ two times in his life before. They were both to Iwaizumi. The first one slipped out of his mouth in his best friend’s backyard years ago, when they were covered in dirt and scratches, and he was tired enough to feel as if his bones would melt into the grass beneath his feet.

Iwaizumi had been naturally good at all sports back then, volleyball included, while Oikawa’s skin was deathly pale with all the time spent indoors. His parents were convinced the volleyball they bought him for his most recent birthday would be stowed away in the back of his closet in a month, and although Oikawa objected, he had a creeping shiver that they were right.

“Let’s try one more time,” Iwaizumi had insisted when Oikawa couldn’t get the spike right after an entire day of practice. “Want to try a set this time? The setter is the coolest position anyway.”

The second time was a few months ago, when the doctor closed the door behind him in the seconds following the strangest discussion in his life. As he was rushed to the hospital, Oikawa realized that when sudden injuries happened, time did not stop.

It sped up, and before he could register the odd angle his leg was in, before his mind could catch up with the impact of his fall, he was in the hospital.

One second, he stood on the top of a staircase, the next, he lay in a pristine, white bed.

A trip to the hospital’s emergency room was fast and abrupt. Unexpected, even though he’d been anticipating it for months. And this time, Iwaizumi didn’t insist, he merely asked him whether or not he would still be able to run.

Oikawa brushed a thumb over the pads of his index finger. In a few months, the callouses and roughness of his fingertips would ease, and it would seem as if his years on the court had been nothing but a dream.

_ I’m not playing volleyball anymore.  _ This was the third. The lucky third. 

He’d said it so fast that it sounded rehearsed, but Kageyama’s eyes flashed once, and they both pretended not to notice.

But Oikawa wanted him to notice. 

He wished that Kageyama would say more, spit out an insult, it didn’t matter—as long as those words didn’t die without recognition. Oikawa wanted someone to at least let him know that they noticed, to take a moment out of their day to say  _ hey, are you okay? _

It would be so easy to just talk about what he wanted to say out loud, but he didn’t, because he was sure, he was  _ certain _ that he had the power to pull himself out of whatever hellhole he created if he really needed to.

_ Yell at me _ , Oikawa silently prayed.  _ Tell me it’s not over. Tell me I’m a coward for running. Punch me.  _

For once in his life, he cursed the way that the grin seemed to freeze on his face. Just one person to notice. 

_One person. C’mon, Tobio-chan, come_ _on_.

Except Kageyama just said, “It’s not good to assault your friends.”

Oikawa swept his hand across the surface of the water and blinked hard. His eyes were a bit dry. “You should see that I’m suffering too,” he replied, and the double meaning that the words accidentally held lodged like a stick in his throat.

“You’re still alive and breathing,” Kageyama said.

“Good enough,” Oikawa commented breezily, all the while he pretended the frozen smile stuck on his face wasn’t the heaviest burden he’d ever carried.

“Doesn’t all this make you wish you were born into a rich family?” Oikawa said with a sigh as he lay on the two futons in the center of the room. 

At first, the food had been bland on his tongue, but as he and Kageyama had talked, it had warmed his taste buds and he had realized it would probably be years before he had the money to eat meals like this one. If not for the short stretches of happiness in between episodes (god, that made him sound  _ sick _ ), he would have dragged himself to see someone.

Kageyama pushed at his leg, so gently that Oikawa almost considered liking him. “Rich families have their own troubles,” he replied. “Get off. There are two futons for a reason.”

“But it would be so much cozier if we shared one,” Oikawa whined, and tossed Kageyama a grin when he received a glare. “Turn off the lights for your darling senpai, Tobio-chan.”

“You do it,” Kageyama grumbled, but he was already walking towards the light switch. The flip made a small click, and it plunged the suit into darkness. 

Oikawa rolled onto his own futon and stared into the black, wondering if his eyes were wide open or closed. Kageyama lay down beside him, and if he strained his hearing, he could hear the boy’s breathing.

Oikawa sighed. “I hope you’re still awake. This is the perfect time for pillow talk.”

“What’s pillow talk?” Oikawa could imagine Kageyama frowning.

“Deep, authentic conversation between lovers in bed,” Oikawa replied. “Although we can twist the rules for it to apply to friends too.” Kageyama’s breathing paused for a few heartbeats and Oikawa smiled ruefully. “How do you even manage to be so awkward, Tobio-chan?”

“I’m not awkward,” Kageyama snapped.

“And obvious,” Oikawa added. “Have you read any romance novels? They give lots of insight on these things. You know—the way his shoulders tensed at the mention of them being friends told her whatever. That kind of thing. Hey, wanna have some recommendations?”

“No,” Kageyama said stiffly.

Oikawa grinned in the dark. This was something he was good at, poking the tiger. He loved sharpening his words and using their piercing points to jab at sore spots. The stiff and wary words he got in reply delighted him. “You’re giving out all the signs of being in love, you know?”

“You’re being stupid,” Kageyama told him.

“Care to share who it is?”  _ Poke. _

“It’s none of your business!”

“So you do have someone in mind. Then, shall I take a guess?” 

_ Poke, poke _ .

“Go to sleep already, this is a stupid conver—”

“Lean closer,” Oikawa interrupted. He turned to face Kageyama and waved him over, even though he knew his gesture couldn’t be seen in the dark.

Kageyama hesitated, and for a fraction of a moment Oikawa wondered if he’d twisted the knife too far. 

But then he heard Kageyama shift and Oikawa reached around until he felt his hand brush against straight strands of hair. “It’s a miracle that your hair hasn’t fallen out with how little care you give it,” he murmured. “I’m jealous.”

Oikawa ruffled Kageyama’s hair once more before slipping his hand to the back of Kageyama’s head and pulling him forward. He had so much practice with girls he had never wanted to touch that the movement almost felt like it’d been waiting to happen, with the one he really needed it to be perfect with. 

Their faces were less than an inch together now and he could feel Kageyama’s breath stutter.  _ How fast is his heart beating? _ Oikawa pondered. His own heart was pounding in his chest, like it was beating against the door of his ribcage.

“What are you doing?” Kageyama blurted out, and Oikawa supressed a laugh at how breathy it was.

“Kissing you,” Oikawa replied, and pressed their lips together.

Oikawa didn’t know what to expect, kissing Kageyama. It was almost exactly the same as kissing a girl, but different at the same time. 

His lips were a little dry. Rough, but warm and welcoming. During the first few seconds, Kageyama went completely still, and in the back of Oikawa’s mind, he wondered if he’d just went into shock. But then Kageyama made a little, muffled noise in the back of his throat and became alive again.

He thought kissing Kageyama would be gentle, innocent, and just a touch of uncertainty. But Kageyama was aggressive, pressing down on him--he kissed as if his life depended on it, like he had to make himself known before Oikawa had the chance to forget him.

It was…

Pleasant.

When they finally pulled away, Oikawa had the sudden urge to vomit. His legs urged him to rush into the bathroom and bend over the toilet to push the contents of his stomach inside out, but he ignored it. He couldn’t tell what it was—insistent butterflies swarming in his stomach or the fact that he was disgusted because he’d just kissed  _ Kageyama _ .

He hated it.

But there the string between hate and love was thin, and all the insistent chafing he’d been doing to it was beginning to blur the lines.

**and besides,**

**i’d never forgive myself**

In the days following the kiss that stretched and crumbled into shaky months, they didn’t talk about it. Not a single word was exchanged between them that had anything even remotely to do with it. 

Sometimes, Oikawa wondered if it even happened, if he imagined it all or if it had been a dream all this time. But then he’d catch Kageyama watching him with the tips of his ears blushing red, and Oikawa would remember how warm Kageyama’s lips had been.

On certain nights, he would have vivid dreams. They constituted nightmares, but Oikawa couldn’t remember being scared, no matter how much he racked his brain for details. 

Most recently, he’d dreamed of bombs raining down like droplets of water.

He was running through a school, wearing his junior high uniform. In the distance, he could hear the sound of explosions. When Oikawa tried to warn the other students, his voice caught in his throat and they stared at him in confusion. His legs felt weighed down, unbearably slow like in all of his dreams, and he couldn’t get around fast enough. Iwaizumi and Kageyama were in the gym, but before he could throw open the doors, he woke up with a jolt.

For a moment, Oikawa was convinced that they were dead. He felt cold, even though his college dorm managers always turned up the heat too high in the winter.

After a hot shower that seared his skin, he threw on warm clothing and dashed out of his room. One of his floormates was also coming out, and he threw Oikawa a quizzical look. “You’re up early.”

“So are you,” Oikawa pointed out, and rushed down the stairs without another word. He’d never been claustrophobic before, but the small rooms and narrow hallways seemed to close in on him. The stiffness in his knee still felt strange, even after all those months. Oikawa believed it would stay with him for the rest of his life, and the idea was bitter in his mind.

Today was the first time he’d been to the bridge. It was strong, a grand construction made of steel and cables. Below him were the tracks of trains. Though none were operating now, they would be in less than an hour.

They would travel fast, at about 320 kilometres per hour—blocks of metal that made people’s bodies seem fragile and delicate.

**if i allowed this precious chance**

**to slip away**

Kageyama couldn’t focus. His senior exams were drawing dangerously close, and the possibility of failure wasn’t an option. Hinata had pointed out that countless universities with the best volleyball teams would be offering him a scholarship. But that would mean nothing if he graduated high school with failing grades.

Kageyama couldn’t focus, and the root of it was Oikawa. 

Oikawa was also the thief of his sleep, occupying his mind free of rent nearly every night. Oikawa was in the same boat as him, with the days passing that inched him closer and closer to finals week. Except unlike Kageyama, he actually had a clue on what he was supposed to study and breezed through the questions.

What Kageyama didn’t understand was why Oikawa couldn’t turn in a quarter of his assignments with that quick pace. When he had asked, Oikawa had only replied with a dismissive, “Oh, I’m sleeping too much these days.” So they studied together in the public library, even though they were years apart. Oikawa claimed he was a hundred times more productive with Kageyama, but it didn’t change anything for him because Kageyama was distracted with or without Oikawa.

And besides, Kageyama could stare at Oikawa as much as he wanted like this.

“You’re really going to fail if you don’t up your average, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa suddenly said without glancing up. Kageyama glanced up from where he had been staring (Oikawa’s fingertips; the former calluses had disappeared completely by now. The soft pads left over would feel tender against Kageyama’s own rough hands. Not that that was relevant.).

Kageyama tapped his textbook. “I’m studying. Worry about yourself.”

Oikawa finally lifted his gaze from his notes to squint at Kageyama. Kageyama squirmed under the spotlight. Then, Oikawa grinned. “Why don’t I tutor you?”

Kageyama blinked. He said a little too loudly, “What?”

The librarian that had been organizing the bookshelf beside them shot him a glare. Oikawa’s grin spread wider and he began to gather up his supplies. “I’ll make you my temporary little protégé,” he declared in a whisper. “I’ll make up for lost time in junior high.”

“Where are you going?” Kageyama asked, puzzled.

Oikawa raised his eyebrows, as if the answer was obvious. “Your house, of course.”

Oikawa strolled into Kageyama’s house as if he owned it and draped himself on the couch in the living room in front of the television. Kageyama didn’t know how he managed to seem so relaxed while Kageyama was worried about what to do with his hands. Finally he settled on, “Would…would you like something to drink?”

Oikawa smiled. “How courteous of you!” he tapped his finger to his chin. His cheeks were still pink from the cold outside. “Hot chocolate. Do you have hot chocolate? It should be a crime for a household not to have hot chocolate in winter.”

When Kageyama came back into the couch with the hot chocolate, Oikawa had already begun rummaging through Kageyama’s bag for his textbooks. He placed two cups on the low set table and took a seat. As he watched Oikawa blow away the steam from his cup, he couldn’t help but remember that this was the first time they’d been alone in a room after the night at the onsen. 

The idea of Oikawa kissing him was so incredulous that it still made him blush.

Much to his disappointment, nothing happened after the kiss. Oikawa ruffled his hair like he was petting a dog and mumbled something about the food making him sleepy, rolled over and didn’t move again until he fell asleep. Kageyama knew this because he had laid there on his futon, unable to sleep, and replaying the kiss over and over again, until Oikawa’s touch seemed to be cemented in his memory.

Oikawa flipped through Kageyama’s notebooks, squinting. “Your writing is like chicken scratch,” he told Kageyama bluntly.

Kageyama flushed. “Like you can talk.”

“My handwriting is admirable!” Oikawa huffed. He set the notebook down on the most recent page and jabbed at a math problem. “How long did it take for you to solve this?”

It was the algebra problem that he had been struggling with the day before. Kageyama rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Maybe—uh, an hour?”

Oikawa smiled. “Don’t lie to me. How long did it really take?”

Kageyama’s face burned. “I’m not joking.”

There was a long silence, before Oikawa coughed. He crossed his arms and nodded, expression solemn. “It’s a good thing you have such an amazing teacher,” he said importantly. “But, my teaching will come with a cost, my protégé.”

“I didn’t even ask for your—”

“I’ll make sure you graduate with at least average scores,” Oikawa interrupted, “Only if you drink with me on your twentieth birthday.”

“What?”

“Get drunk with me, Tobio-chan!”

Except, to Kageyama, this was not a  _ cost _ . To his ears, this sounded like a promise. Every moment spent with Oikawa felt taboo—something he wasn’t meant to have, and he worried that one day, Oikawa would realize this too and leave him without a goodbye. In two years, he would be twenty, and now, if he agreed, this would be the reason that Oikawa needed to stay.

Oikawa would remain by his side, until at least then. Kageyama would study until he graduated with flying colors if that was what it took to make that happen.

Kageyama took a sip of his hot chocolate and swallowed, even though it burned his tongue. “Okay.”

“Start calling me Oikawa-sensei,” Oikawa grinned, his eyes brighter than any constellation above their heads.

Oikawa would stay, for at least two years longer.

**like all the rest of those**

**may have beens.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poem by your's truely~ (lol i spent ten minutes trying to crank out poetic ideas.. respect to all those professional poets, man)
> 
> this chapter was supposed to contain some hotter scenes, but i chickened out (ﾉ´ｰ`)ﾉ. i tried, i really did-it was a disaster (^◇^；). 
> 
> anyway, thank you for reading!!


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